The Night of the Murderer's Sons
by California gal
Summary: The sequel finally to TNOT Shifting Sands of Time, containing an explanation for why Jim was so startled when Dr. Loveless mentioned a certain name. And also perhaps helping to explain how and why Jim West became the man he was.


**THE NIGHT OF THE MURDERER'S SONS**

Lily Fortune smiled her thanks at the waiter who had just refilled her champagne glass, then picked up the goblet to take a sip, turning her smile toward the man who still clasped her hand on the tabletop. She liked how his thumb was gently caressing the back of her fingers. She liked the warmth in his brown eyes as he gazed her way. However, perhaps that gaze was growing a little too warm.

"You said Jim went hunting?" she asked.

Artemus Gordon was slightly startled by the sudden query. "Yes. I was planning to accompany him, but fortuitously, the article about the appearance in Denver of the famous actress Lily Fortune was called to my attention. I quickly changed my plans."

"So Jim went alone?"

"No, no. He's with an old… acquaintance. A former university classmate who was also in his regiment. Pierce Madden."

Lily studied his face. "Whom you dislike."

Artie sighed. He had hoped his distaste had been camouflaged. "Guilty."

Lily considered this a moment. "It surprises me that Jim would go on a hunting trip. I mean, I don't know him well, but it just seems to me that the two of you get enough 'hunting' in your daily life!"

"Yeah. My feelings exactly. And… normally… the way Jim sees it. But…" Artemus shook his head. "He has a hard time saying no to Pierce."

"Why is that?"

"As I said, they were friends at the university. Seven classmates enlisted at the same time in the Eleventh Indiana Cavalry. This was before I met Jim, of course. Another acquaintance I encountered after the war told me that Pierce Madden had not been a part of the group as such, more of a hanger-on. I guess he was seen as harmless and allowed to join them. In any case, at Chattanooga, Madden saved Jim's life by knocking him down and taking the brunt of a shell burst. Jim was relatively unharmed, but Madden's right arm was shattered, and though he did not lose it, it's stiff and virtually useless."

"What a brave deed! No wonder Jim is grateful."

"Yes. Even more so because Pierce is… was an artist. Apparently a very good one. Their archeology professor had plans to take Pierce on an expedition with him. As you may know, it's not always possible or feasible to photograph relics or wall displays, so an artist will sketch what is seen for future reference. Such work, with a man as noted and respected as Robey was, would have secured Pierce's future. That naturally was ended with the disablement of his arm."

"Even more admirable," Lily murmured. Artemus's hand on hers was still now, and she saw the anger in his frown. Was it possible Artemus was somehow jealous of Jim West's friendship with this man Madden? "But you don't like him."

Artemus's sigh was louder this time. "It's the way Madden has used Jim's gratitude, Lil. He never lets Jim forget it. They were on a first-name basis prior to the war, of course, and even during it except in the most official situations, despite Jim became an officer and Madden was a corporal, I'm told. Yet Madden persists in addressing Jim as 'Captain.' I've heard Jim tell him not to, but Madden continues."

"To remind Jim of their service together, and what he sacrificed."

Artemus was pleased that she grasped the situation so readily. "Yes. That's how I see it. I mentioned that to Jim once but, of course, he denied it, even became a little irritated, so I dropped it. We run across Madden from time to time. I'm almost certain he arranges the 'surprise meetings,' even though they often seem purely coincidental. I'm also certain that Jim has given him money."

"How sad!"

"Isn't it? Not a blamed thing I can do about it either. Sometimes I think that, deep down, Jim comprehends what Pierce Madden is doing, yet also realizes that if it had not been for Madden's selfless act, he might not be alive today. Or at best, he could be crippled, like Madden."

"But he accepted this invitation to go hunting?" Lily thought that strange. If Jim West realized, and resented, the man's actions, why would he want to spend extended time with him.

"Seems a man Madden wants to impress invited him to his hunting lodge in the Bitterroots of Montana… providing Madden could bring his friend Jim West along."

"For heaven's sake! Why?"

Artie shook his head. "I don't know. I never heard of this guy, name of Loren Norwood. He… you have?" Lily's beautiful eyes widened with the mention of the name.

"Loren Norwood! Artemus, I cannot believe you don't know the name. The Baron of Texas?"

Artemus Gordon's mouth dropped open. "That's his real name? My God! Of course I've heard of the Baron of Texas! Owns thousands upon thousands of acres… I guess I never heard his true name, or didn't remember it. No wonder Madden wants to impress him."

Lily leaned forward slightly, and now her fingers tightened on his. "Artemus, I met Norwood in Dallas last year. He is a very… I'm not sure what the word is. He's frightening. He came backstage and offered me a fortune to become his mistress."

"Good Lord!"

"That was my reaction exactly! He walked in, introduced himself, and his next words were, 'I'll give you half a million dollars to come back to Texas with me.' I was so stunned, I could only stare at him in silence, which he considered an assent, so he began telling me to be at his private train the next morning, that I shouldn't worry about packing clothes because he would buy me all I would need, better than anything I owned."

Artemus gazed at the lovely woman across from him. "I'm presuming you refused."

Lily laughed. "Yes, dear. I refused, and threw him out. Of course he came back again, his ego not allowing him to believe that I could have said no. He also sent a room full of flowers and a diamond bracelet to impress me. I sent the bracelet back and shared the flowers with the rest of the cast." She sobered. "The point is, Artemus, that if he wanted to meet Jim, he most certainly has another motive. Perhaps to attempt to hire him away from the service."

Artemus Gordon shook his head. "No way. There's nothing a man like that could offer to induce Jim West to leave the service. When Jim leaves, it'll be on his own terms, just as I will. I'm sure when I meet Jim in four days, he'll be shaking his head and laughing about it."

"Four days?"

"Yes. I'm to meet him in Missoula with the train. Jim already told Madden that the trip would have to be short, as we are due back in Washington."

"Is that true?" Lily was certain Artemus had told her previously that when Jim returned, they would be waiting for their next assignment.

"No. But it's a clue to me about how Jim feels about Pierce Madden. He's paying his debt, but does not see the need to pay interest!"

WWWWWW

"Pierce, are you sure we're on the right trail?" Jim West hoped the annoyance he was experiencing was not too strongly evident in his tone. Yet he was damned annoyed. A "one-day ride" was now into the evening of the second day and seemed to be heading toward three days.

Ahead of him in the early twilight of mid October, Pierce Madden called back over his shoulder. "I've got it, Captain. Don't worry."

Jim clamped his jaw tight, lest he say anything he would later regret. He had to accept some of the blame. Even back in school, Pierce Madden had not been known as the most reliable of students. His charm and his talent as an artist often got him by. Professor Robey had confided to James West that he wondered if taking Madden on an expedition was a good idea, at the same time stating that he never knew a better artist when it came to creating quick, thorough, and extremely accurate sketches. Madden's reputation as a soldier had not been sterling either. He had been there, however, when Jim West needed him in the worst way, and paid for it with his future.

When Pierce approached him in Boise to invite the two agents on the trip, he had stated that the hunting lodge of Loren Norwood was "about a day's ride" out of Hamilton which was located in the heart of the Bitterroot Valley of western Montana. Artie originally accepted, but then backed out upon learning that the woman who owned his heart was going to be in Denver.

Jim and Pierce Madden headed into the valley, stocked up on supplies at Hamilton, then set out. At the end of the first day of riding, Madden had apologized, stating he must have misunderstood the instructions. He declined to allow Jim to look at the rough map someone had drawn for him, claiming it was his responsibility. He was the one who messed up, he would get them to the lodge the next day, he was certain.

_I should have listened to Artie. He had reservations about this business from the start. Lucky for him, I found that article about Lily in the newspaper. Probably lucky for me, too! He'd be chewing my head off about now, seeing how he "loves" riding so much. These mountainous trails would have been killing him._

"Pierce, unless the lodge is within an hour's ride, I think we'd better look for a campsite."

"No worries, Captain. Far as I can tell, it's right ahead."

Again Jim held his tongue. While Pierce had not exactly claimed previously that they were that close to the lodge, his rosy optimism had not played out before either. _I'm the fool. I can't blame Pierce for that. Not entirely. But Artie is going to be in Missoula tomorrow waiting for me, so this visit is going to be damn short!_

One thing Jim had learned on the trek was the true identity of his potential host. The name Loren Norwood had seemed vaguely familiar, but he had not realized that Norwood was the man who now owned a large chunk of Texas, as well as having investments in property and firms all over the country and elsewhere. A very wealthy and influential man. He could not imagine what use such a man would have for Pierce Madden.

_That's not fair._ Jim West was aware that Pierce was an intelligent man. He had been forced to support himself since his injury primarily by working as a bartender, desk clerk, or other similar jobs, having trained himself to use his left hand for simple chores like writing and counting money. But he could have been much more. His withered right arm was simply there as a reminder of what his life might have been.

Jim had never asked Pierce why he had not acceded to the doctor's recommendation that the arm be amputated. Never having been in such a situation himself, Jim was not entirely sure of his own response had he faced that decision, but he wondered about having that crippled limb constantly visible. Which would be worse? That, or no arm at all?

Another consideration, Jim mused, shifting his thoughts, was the weather. Though only October, snow could fall in these mountains at any time, and heavy snow at that. The air had a heavy chill in it, and the dark clouds that gathered today not only cooled the temperature further by blocking the sun, but had an ominous appearance. Jim West had not been surprised when, upon mentioning this worry to his companion, he had received back a scoffing laugh and more assurances that the weather was nothing to fret about.

"There it is!" Pierce Madden exclaimed suddenly, drawing his horse to a halt. Jim moved up alongside him, leading the packhorse. A small cabin was visible ahead. Very small.

"That's the hunting lodge?" Jim could not stop the amazed comment from bursting out.

"That's where the map leads us," Madden replied blithely. "Let's go."

Bemused, Jim allowed the black horse to continue, following Madden. This was strange, to say the least. "Hunting lodge" to him conjured up pictures of a large structure, even two stories high. Especially when one connected the name of Loren Norwood to it. The building ahead looked more like a fur trapper's cabin.

Smoke was curling out of the stone chimney, an indication that someone was in residence, though no animals were in view. Could be that any horse, or mule, was behind the cabin. Jim hoped that whoever was inside would set them straight about where Norwood's lodge was located. Perhaps even offer them a very welcome cup of coffee, and if the distance to the lodge was too great, a meal and overnight lodging.

Pierce dismounted first, and to Jim's astonishment, walked up to the cabin's door to open it without knocking. Jim West dismounted quickly, half expecting to hear shouts of anger, even gunfire, from within. Whoever lived there would not appreciate such boldness, not to mention rudeness.

Nothing happened, however, so Jim carefully made his way to the still open door. The first thing he noticed was a good, warm fire going in the small fireplace. He then saw four men, besides Pierce Madden, inside. Two were at a table, apparently playing some card game. A third stood at the fireplace, facing it, not turning around. The fourth got up from another chair and advanced, holding out his hand.

"Mr. West! What an honor and a pleasure. Welcome! I'm Loren Norwood."

Jim accepted the enthusiastic handshake, perplexed. Loren Norwood pretty much looked as he had expected, a stocky, big-chested man with a round face, trim dark mustache, and not much hair on top of his head. The wool shirt he wore was not a cheap one, nor were his boots. A green stone on the ring on one finger glittered in the firelight. However, the cabin appeared to consist only of this one room. Jim saw a single cot at one side, the table where the men still sat, and two chairs. Most assuredly not the accommodations one would expect a man of Norwood's status to occupy.

"How do you do, Mr. Norwood," Jim responded quietly, and tried not to stare toward the man at the fireplace, the man who still had his back to the room. _Why does that man look familiar, even though I cannot see his face?_

Pierce was pulling off his heavy coat. "I told you I could bring him, Mr. Norwood."

"And you did, Madden. You did, indeed. Where's Gordon?"

"Mr. Gordon had other… business… to attend to," Jim replied. He had wondered why Norwood evinced some obvious irritation upon noticing no one else followed them inside. "As a matter of fact, Mr. Norwood, as much as I appreciate your hospitality, I'm afraid I cannot take advantage of it. I'm due back in Washington, therefore must meet my partner in Missoula day after tomorrow. That means I have to leave first thing in the morning."

Norwood's eyes narrowed momentarily, but then he laughed, a sound from deep in the large chest. "Well, perhaps. But for tonight, we can enjoy your company, right? Toby, go take care of the horses. These are two of my employees, Mr. West, Toby Milton and Kansas Story. And I think you know my other guest. Matthew?"

The suspicion had been growing, and James West had believed himself prepared for when the man at the fire turned around and walked toward them. But seeing that face hit him like a sledgehammer. All he could do was stare for a long moment.

"Hello, Jim. Been a long time."

Jim ignored the extended hand, fighting back the fury, also unexpected, he was experiencing. "What the hell are you doing here, Matthew?" _How strange that I recognized him immediately after twenty years. _Yet, Jim West was cognizant that viewing this man was like looking in a magic mirror, one that reflected his own face ten years hence. Only the eyes were different, more brown than green.

Norwood laughed out loud. "Your brother works for me now, Mr. West. I hope to make it a family affair."

Jim pulled his gaze away from his older brother, shot one look at the grinning Pierce Madden, then focused on Norwood. "What are you talking about?"

"Business," Norwood smiled. "But it's too early for that. Take off your coat, Mr. West, and relax. I'm sure you and Matt have a lot to talk about. I'm told it's been over twenty years. Long time."

_Not long enough!_ "Mr. Norwood," Jim West said icily, "I won't impose on your hospitality any longer. Time for me to head back to civilization."

He started to turn for the door, but two things stopped him. One was that the man known as Kansas, who had risen when his card-playing partner went outside, now stood in front of the door, arms folded. He was a big man, probably well over six feet, packing a couple hundred pounds or more, most of which appeared to be solid muscle. Jim West knew he could take Kansas in a fair and open fight, but suspected that would not be the case here.

The other thing was that Matthew reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "Jim, please."

_I should just hit him. I should bloody his nose, blacken his eyes and pummel him, try to return some of the pain he caused me._ At the same instant these thoughts flashed through his mind, Jim realized that such physical punishment would not do it, would not be any solace to himself. The anguish was in his mind and heart.

"I'll leave first thing in the morning," he grated, hating himself and despising the man whose gaze was keeping him riveted to the floor.

"That's fine," Norwood crooned. "That's just fine. Gives me some time to try to change your mind. What more could I ask? Sit down, Mr. West. Pierce, bring Mr. West some coffee. We've got some stew in that kettle on the stove, Mr. West. Pretty tasty, if I do say so myself."

"Sounds good to me," Pierce enthused, "after what we've been eating on the trail!"

Jim shrugged out of his sheepskin-lined jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall. He did not miss the glances of Norwood and Kansas toward the gun he was wearing at his hip. Nor did he remove that belt. He did not feel the least bit relaxed just now, and the presence of his brother was not the whole reason. Something was off-kilter here.

He sat down at the table recently vacated by Kansas and Toby, experiencing scant comfort with the solid wall behind him. Pierce brought a steaming mug of coffee and put it on the table, while Matthew sat down on one of the other chairs, leaning his elbows on his knees, his saddened gaze almost never straying from his younger brother. Jim found it more angering than annoying. What the devil did Matt want from him? Had he really expected to be greeted with open arms, after what he did?

WWWWW

Artemus Gordon could hardly keep from smiling. _Good thing Jim is not here,_ he reflected more than once. _He would be giving it to me, with interest! _But the reasons for his happiness were many. For one, he had just spent two days with the most wonderful woman in the world. Better yet, he was pretty certain he had made inroads on her stubborn refusal to accept his proposal.

After they had talked deep into the night, Artemus Gordon realized that he was coming to new terms with his own ideas about the role of females in the world. Lily was as successful in her field as he was in his. Though she had laughed, stating she was not quite in a position to purchase a private car as she had once sworn she would, she was near the top in the theatrical world, with plum roles being thrown her way in abundance. She could pick and choose, and was doing so. Why should she give it up now to become a dutiful wife, no matter what her feelings were for the man involved? Perhaps she was right.

Artemus had hated leaving Denver, leaving Lily Fortune behind, but also had been buoyed by new orders received via the telegraph. He and Jim West were to travel to San Francisco to look into some counterfeiting. Lily's next performance date on her current tour was in San Francisco. Could life get any better? More time spent with Lily meant an opportunity to work out their differing perspectives, to find a middle ground.

The special train would reach Missoula this evening, Jim would meet him tomorrow, and they would travel toward the Pacific Ocean… and Lily. Artemus knew he needed to prepare himself for the ribbing Jim would surely deliver. His partner's support had helped ease the disappointment experienced last year in New Orleans when Lily turned down his proposal… or rather the one made by Jim West on his behalf. Artemus still experienced chagrin when he remembered how he had been unable to get the words out himself.

"It was too sudden, Artie," Jim had suggested later, which had prompted an annoyed Artemus to ask how many proposals Jim had proffered and had had refused. Yet Jim persisted, and eventually Artie came to realize his partner had been right. In the few days he and Lily had spent together after their reunion, they had kissed and laughed, but had never come close to discussing the future together.

_I'm going to do it right this time. We're going to have all issues out in the open, a complete understanding._ Artemus had no doubt that he would be successful using this tactic. The responses Lily gave to his embraces assured him of that. She had also said those magic words several times, including upon their parting: "I love you, Artemus." That had to mean something. Like himself, Lily Fortune would not use those words loosely.

_I just hope Jim isn't having to rough a time with Madden and Norwood._ The information Lily had provided on Loren Norwood had prompted Gordon to seek more. He had sent a couple of telegraph messages, then was somewhat bothered by the responses he received. Even Lily had not known this information, and she usually heard all the gossip about the rich and famous who frequented the theatrical performances, especially the society leaders who liked to invite theater personages to their social affairs.

"Oh," she had responded when Artemus showed her the telegraph messages, "I hope that does not mean he will pull his support from the San Antonio theater troupe he has been backing!"

WWWWW

Jim West opened his eyes and peered through the fog that was swirling around his head. _No, not fog. What the hell…?_ Slowly the fuzziness cleared and he found himself staring up toward the beamed ceiling of a large room. The cabin's roof had been low and flat. _What the hell…?_

He started to sit up, and just as swiftly fell back down, the vertigo he experienced overwhelming. This was crazy. He tried to remember what happened. The only memory he had was drinking the strong coffee.

"Don't move too fast, Jimmy," a man spoke from nearby. "It'll go away."

Recognizing the voice, Jim did not look that direction, but concentrated on carefully swinging his legs over the side of the bed and coming erect. Only then did he fasten his gaze on the man in the large overstuffed chair placed against the far wall. The room—a bedroom of some sort—was larger than the interior of the cabin had been.

"Where are we, Matt?" His voice was raspy, his mouth and throat dry.

Matthew West got to his feet to go to a small table near a window, where he picked up a pitcher to fill a tumbler, which he handed to Jim. "We're at Norwood's lodge."

Jim hesitated only an instant before drinking all the water in the glass. The coffee had certainly been drugged; the water was not likely to be. They had done whatever needed to be done. "How far from the cabin?"

Matt shrugged. Jim was unsure if that meant he did not know, or if he did not want to answer. "Just take it easy, kid. This could work out in a good way for both of us."

His head much clearer now, Jim got to his feet. He was fully clothed, except his gun belt was gone. He touched his cheek, felt the stubble of whiskers, at least one day's worth. He faced Matt.

"What does that mean? A 'good way.' Are we talking money, or just getting out of here alive?"

He thought that Matt flinched slightly. "Jim, listen to me. I did not know that this was what Norwood had in mind. I didn't know you would be here. Not right off, anyway."

"Why _am_ I here? What's Norwood up to?"

"I'll let him explain it. I'll just… ask you… beg you… to hear him out. It's important."

Jim folded his arms across his chest, eyes icy. "To who? You? Where have you been for twenty years, Matt?" Matthew was definitely nervous about something.

"Canada, mostly."

_Funny, that never occurred to me. I thought maybe Mexico, South America… not Canada._ While he had never specifically sought his brother, Jim West had always kept his eyes open, just as he had for Nevin West. He had been more than somewhat surprised that he never heard a whisper regarding Matthew West, even after his own fame increased.

The door to the room opened before anything further could be said. A grinning Pierce Madden stood then. "Hey, Captain, good to see you awake. Old Matt there, he was getting worried about how long you were out. Come on downstairs and get some breakfast."

"Pierce!"

The one-armed man halted shortly as he started to turn away, looked back. "Captain?"

"What's your part in this? What's your payoff?"

The grin returned. "It's a big one, Captain. For all of us!" He vanished before anything further could be said.

"Let's go, Jim. You'll feel better with some food in your stomach."

_**Eat something, Jimmy. You gotta eat. Mom would want that. You'll feel better. I promise. **_

_**But Mom's dead, Matt! What are we gonna do?**_

_**Don't worry about anything, kid. I'm here. I'll always be here. I swear on Mom's grave. I'll always be here to take care of you.**_

Jim West followed his brother, stepping out into a broad landing that overlooked the room below. Two sets of stairs were visible, on either side of the lower level, at what appeared to be the front side of the massive structure, and both sets led up to the landing circling the second floor. Probably at least ten doors opened off the landing.

A massive stone fireplace was on the same side of the building as the double doors, with a blaze befitting the size of the hearth roaring in it. Several sofas and chairs faced the hearth, and on the other side of the room was a long table surrounded by chairs. Other pieces of furniture—chairs, tables, low bookcases—were scattered here and there, while thick woven rugs softened the polished wood floor. The walls were adorned with paintings, woven hangings, and the preserved heads of various wild animals indigenous to this region. This was what Jim had expected when he thought of a wealthy man's hunting lodge.

Loren Norwood rose from one of the chairs near the fire and strolled forward, smiling affably. "Good morning, Mr. West. Hope you had a nice rest. Do you mind if I call you Jim? I'm on a first-name basis with your brother, so it seems a little strange to be formal with you."

"I prefer Mr. West," Jim replied coolly.

That elicited a chuckle. "Matt told me you were a feisty one, even as a kid. All right, Mr. West. That's the way it'll be, for now. I'm sure you'll change your mind as we get to know each other better."

"What do you want with me, Norwood?" Jim saw the man's eyes narrow slightly with the omission of a polite title.

"In time, Mr. West. In time. Come along and have some breakfast."

"Where are we and how did I get here?" Jim asked as he and Matt followed Norwood toward the table.

"This is my hunting lodge, as you've no doubt ascertained. As to where it is, well, that can come later. Your reputation precedes you, Mr. West. Thus, for reasons of secrecy, I took the precaution of drugging you before bringing you here. Suffice it to say, we are deep within the mountains. If you try to leave, you'll be soon lost, and die of exposure… if you aren't attacked by a cougar or a bear first. So just relax, Mr. West. Matthew and Pierce can reassure you, I'm an excellent host."

A young man who looked to be Mexican or possibly part Indian, or both, brought a tray laden with a plate of eggs, ham, potatoes, warm bread, and aromatic coffee. Only when the aroma reached his nostrils did Jim realize just how hungry he was. They had not stopped for supper last night, plus he had passed out before having an opportunity to sample the stew at the small cabin, so he had not eaten in at least eighteen hours.

Sitting in the chair at the narrow end of the long table, he tucked into the meal without hesitation, again with no fear of further drugs. Norwood had him where he wanted him. Now was the time for talking. Jim was intensely curious about the reasons he was here. Money was involved. Why did any of these men believe he could be bought?

Loren Norwood and Matthew West sat down at the table too, on either side of Jim, who found himself far more conscious of the presence of the latter. What was going on? Why was Matt here? What kind of deal was Norwood offering Matt? Why was his own presence needed, or wanted? The fact that they had virtually kidnapped a federal agent indicated things were not exactly on the up and up. Why would a man like Loren Norwood be involved in the illegal?

_Then again, I don't know anything about Norwood, had only heard of him before now. Called "The Baron of Texas" due to the power he wields in that state, but so far as I know, he's never been in any difficulty, especially with the federal government. A wealthy man desiring even more money and power isn't unusual. I've met those types before. Even ones who attempt to gain that money in nefarious manners. But not Norwood. Not thus far._

Nothing was said until Jim mopped up the last of the egg yolk on his plate with the buttered bread. He drained his coffee cup, and put it down. "Shall we talk, Norwood?"

"As good a time as any, Mr. West. It's like this. I need your help, and I'll pay well for that help. You, your brother, and Madden stand to profit greatly for your cooperation."

Jim glanced at Matt. He saw his brother drop his gaze. _Well, at least he doesn't seem to be too proud of his participation, to whatever extent he's involved. Interesting that Norwood used Madden rather than Matt to lure me here._ Jim did not speak. He waited, his eyes resting on Loren Norwood's face.

After a moment, Norwood cleared his throat. "Mr. West, you may know me by reputation. I have extensive holdings, primarily in Texas, but in other parts of the country as well, and also in Mexico, Canada, and a couple of South American countries. I am, by all appearances, a wealthy man. However…" He cleared his throat again. Clearly this was not something he wanted to say, nor found easy to say.

"However, over the last several years I had some ill luck. My properties are heavily mortgaged. Without some intervention, I stand to lose most of it. I have a plan, a very good plan, one I feel is foolproof, to regain some capital. The plan needs the assistance of a man such as yourself."

"I have no influence with banks or any other mortgage holders," Jim replied softly. He knew this was not what Norwood inferred.

"But you are held in high esteem by a number of powerful Indian chiefs," Norwood stated flatly.

Jim stared at him. He had not expected such a remark. "What the devil does that have to do with anything?"

"You'll receive more details later, after you agree to participate. But the gist of the matter is this, Mr. West. I am aware of particular landholdings of certain tribes that are not being used to their fullest potential. I need to obtain the rights to those lands, either as an owner, or even a leaseholder. Chiefs like American Knife and Ho-Tami do not know me from Adam, would have no reason to trust me. But they trust James West."

Once more Jim looked at his brother, this time a longer stare. Matt lifted his gaze briefly, then dropped his eyes down at his coffee cup again. He knew what this was about. "Norwood," Jim West said evenly, "I am not about to get involved in coercing my friends to be cheated by a man like you."

"Cheated? Who said anything about cheating? You are jumping the gun."

"I don't think so. If this was a legitimate deal, you would have come to me openly to ask my advice and assistance. By tricking me, you revealed yourself. You might as well let me go, or kill me, whatever the alternative is, because I am not going to participate."

"You are a rash young man," Norwood said calmly. "I do not intend to be so precipitate. I'm going to give you time and opportunity to consider the situation, especially once you know all the details."

"No," Jim West stated flatly. "That won't make any difference. My mind will not be changed. I don't know why you thought having my brother here would influence me. Obviously Matt has not told you the truth of our relationship."

"On the contrary, I think I know quite a bit about the two of you. I also believe that once Matt talks to you, you will indeed change your mind. Matthew, why don't you take Jim over by the fire and tell him the facts of life. I need to talk to the others, and I'll do it outside."

Norwood nodded amiably, rose to his feet, and exited through the door the servant had used. Almost instantaneously, that young man emerged with the coffee pot and silently refilled the cups of the West brothers. Jim looked up and caught the youth's glance. He prevented himself from reacting to the plea he saw in those dark eyes.

Matt stood up now, picking up his cup. "Jimmy, come on. We need to talk."

"I can't imagine what about," Jim growled, rising as well. He knew even as he said it that he was lying to himself. He did need to talk to his brother. He just was not sure he could and keep his emotions, his temper, in check. Taking his own cup, he followed Matt across the wide floor, and took a soft chair that faced the one Matt settled in.

"How the hell did you get mixed up in this, Matt?"

"Well… it's… I didn't… I need the money, Jim." He finally blurted, placing his cup on a small nearby table, and leaning forward slightly. "Jimmy, I'm married. I have a wife and three kids up in Montreal. I can't… I haven't been a very good provider. This is my chance to make a life for them. A real life."

"You never heard of getting a job and holding it?" Jim knew instinctively that his brother was holding something back, perhaps even lying about some portion of the tale.

A flush crept over the elder brother's features. "I've tried. I have tried, Jim. Honest to God, I've tried. I'm just… I was never like you. Mom used to say I was too much like my mother."

Jim sipped his coffee. He remembered overhearing Mom talking to Aunt Sybil, saying something like that. _"I just don't know about Matthew, Sybil. He's bright. He's got good intentions. But he's so much like Catherine. She could never settle down to anything, not even one man."_

Even at his young age, Jim had had a good idea of what his mother meant. He had heard the gossip. Later, he realized more completely what had happened. Catherine West, Nevin West's first wife and Matt's mother, had run off with another man before Matt was even conceived, had returned to her forgiving husband, borne him a son… and fled again. The second time, she did not return, but perhaps only because of the hotel fire in which she and her lover died. No one would ever know whether Nevin would have taken her back a second time. Instead, a few years later he married Louise Templeton, who became James's mother.

"So now you're after easy money, gained by cheating Indians out of their due."

Matt leaned back again. "You don't even know what the deal is."

"No, and I don't think I want to. Those people are my friends, Matt. American Knife saved my life. I am _not_ going to participate in a scheme to defraud them. If that means I die, so be it." He gazed at Matt a long moment. "Did you make Norwood believe that I might be amenable to such a deal? Is that why you're here?"

"No! Jim, I swear, I did not know you were to be involved. Not right away. It was Madden."

Jim stiffened. "Pierce Madden? What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I don't know the whole story."

"Then how the hell _are_ you involved, Matt?"

Matthew rubbed a hand over his face. "Norwood owns a company in Montreal, where I've been living, one that builds railroad cars. I got a job there a couple months back. Not a great job. I hate it, actually. But… it's money coming in, and I've tried to stick it out. Didn't even know who Norwood was, other than I was aware an American was the majority stockholder. About six weeks ago, Norwood showed up at the plant, and he sent word he wanted to talk to me. I was amazed, I can tell you that. I had no idea what he could want.

"All he did that time was say he'd heard I was doing a good job, and wanted to give me a raise, and a bonus. Believe me, that was damn welcome. My youngest, Matthew junior, had just had an operation for appendicitis, and we were more strapped than usual for funds after the medical bills. Anyway, I accepted it, went back to the job, figuring that maybe, for once, things were going my way."

Matt paused, shook his head ruefully, picked up his coffee cup and took a deep swallow before continuing. Jim noticed he looked everywhere but directly at his brother.

"Two weeks later, the house burned down. Thank the Lord, Therese and the kids weren't home. I was at the job. But we lost everything. Everything. One of the fireman said the blaze could have been caused by a lamp that had been left burning. Therese could not swear that she had not gone off and left one lit. She had departed in a hurry when she received word that Emilie, our older daughter, had been injured in a trolley accident. Turned out to be a false alarm. A small collision had occurred, but Emilie was not even on that car. Both she and Genevieve were already in school."

Again Matthew West halted his words, and as he had at the table, he stared down into the shiny liquid in his cup, almost as if seeing pictures there. Jim waited. He already had suspicions forming, and the wonder was whether or not Matt had also experienced those suspicions. Or if he had, had he simply overlooked them, because it was the easier way? What was the remainder of the story?

"Things were bad, Jim. I didn't have any insurance. Even with the raise and the bonus…. It wasn't enough to rebuild or buy a house. Barely enough to keep the family in a hotel for a few weeks, what with having to buy new clothes, eat at restaurants…. I was at my wit's end. Even looked for a second job, but didn't have any luck."

"And then the benevolent Loren Norwood reappeared." Jim could not remain silent, and his tone crackled with anger and scorn.

Now Matt glared at him. "What do you know about it, Jimmy? You always had everything easy!"

"Easy!" Jim West slammed his cup down on the table next to his chair, ignoring the liquid that sloshed out onto his hand and the tabletop. "Easy? I was alone, Matthew! I was ten years old, and _alone!_ I had to fight them all myself." _And you promised to be there!_

_**Where's Matthew, Aunt Sybil? If he doesn't come have his breakfast, he won't have time to walk me to school.**_

_**Just eat, Jimmy. You'll have to go alone today.**_

_**Why? Is Matt sick?**_

_**Jimmy… Matthew is gone. He left sometime in the night, took all his clothes.**_

_**But he promised! He wouldn't go away and leave me! He promised!**_

Matt could not hold his younger brother's hard stare, dropping his eyes. "You had Aunt Sybil…"

"Aunt Sybil fed me, put clothes on my back. That's about all. She couldn't walk me to school and back, couldn't scare off the taunting bullies." _Killer's kid! Killer's kid!_

Matt West heaved a big sigh. "I'm sorry, Jim. Of everything I've ever done, I've regretted that the most. It was a girl, you know."

Jim frowned. "A girl? What do you mean?"

"Her name was Annie Cutter. She worked at the tavern. She was blonde and beautiful, with big blue eyes. I was… I thought I was in love with her, and that she loved me. She wanted to leave the small town, go to New York City, to live the high life. I agreed to take her, afraid I would lose her if I didn't. I was too cowardly to tell you, or anyone else. We just left. I figured I would come back for you later. I promised Annie the moon, Jim, and when I couldn't produce it, she left me for someone who could. Then I was too ashamed to return home."

James West remained silent for a long moment. He had never known the true reason his brother vanished overnight from the small town in upstate New York where they had lived. No one had appeared to know, at least none who could or would tell a ten-year-old boy. All he had known was that the elder brother he adored and idolized had betrayed him. After twenty years, the pain was still raw.

"You still haven't come to the explanation of why you are here, and part of Norwood's scheme," he said then. "I presume you agreed to the part where if I didn't cooperate I'd be killed."

"God, no! Jim, I swear, I didn't know anything about you being involved when Norwood first approached me. He… he knew I was American, and that I'd lived in this area of Montana for awhile… before I moved further north. He didn't mention your name once. He said that I… that if I… he said he could use my knowledge of the area. Jim, he gave me an advance that allowed me to buy a little house for Therese and the children, to leave them enough money to get by on. Norwood promised a payoff that would make the world of difference for our future."

"What are you going to do with the blood money?" Again, Jim was certain more remained to be told.

Matt winced, but shook it off. "I might buy a store or something. A way to be my own boss. That'll make all the difference in the world. I never did like to take orders."

The front door opened and Pierce Madden strolled in. "Hey, Captain," he greeted jovially. "Matt giving you all the details? Quite a setup, huh? We're going to be rich men!"

Jim stared at him. "Not if you're planning on my cooperation for that to happen."

The shock was evident. "Captain! You don't mean that!" He hurried toward the fireplace, sitting on the edge of a sofa, his useless arm pulled close to his chest. "You have to! You owe me!" His left hand clasped over the withered right arm.

Jim West experienced the reaction he usually had when Madden used his injury in an attempt to persuade him: irritation and guilt. Corporal Pierce Madden had lost his livelihood when he saved Captain James West's life. The action had been heroic and self-sacrificing. Pierce had not given any thought to his own safety. Beyond that, however, during the long war, James West had had occasion to save other men's lives, and his own had been protected by the actions of others. Neither he nor those others had clung to the incidents as Pierce did. Then again, Jim realized, none of the others to his knowledge, nor himself, had suffered an injury such as Pierce's, one that altered their entire lives. Irritation and guilt.

"Pierce, I cannot betray my Indian friends. They trust me."

"Good God, Captain," Madden scoffed. "They're only Indians!"

Now Loren Norwood appeared through the rear door. Jim had to wonder if he had been lingering there, waiting for the opportune moment to return, perhaps eavesdropping, though the distance might have precluded hearing much. He strolled across the room to the three men, a lit cigar in his hand now. "Well, Matthew. Have you explained the situation to your little brother?"

Matt got to his feet. "I've been trying, Mr. Norwood."

Jim wondered if he heard fear in his brother's voice. If all Matt said was true, what did he have to fear? He gazed up at the stocky man. "I'm assuming you chose Matthew because you realized his kinship to me, and for no other reason."

Norwood smiled. "It figured into the matter, certainly. I am not a man who usually enters into a transaction rashly. I try to investigate all the angles. I have friends in the military as well as in government departments, and I've often heard that when ticklish problems arise, James West is summoned. You seem to have a particular affinity toward the redskins."

"I respect them and their lifestyle," Jim replied quietly. He always had. As a boy, one place of refuge he always found had been with a small tribe of surviving Seneca who resided in the area. They never cared about who his father had been or what he had done. Especially after Matthew deserted him, he would spend hours with the tribe. Before he left New York, they had initiated him into the tribe as a blood brother, a ritual that had been repeated among various tribes he encountered in later years.

"Now look, West, it's not as though I plan to steal everything they have. You've got to realize, these ignorant savages do not know how to take advantage of the situation. In some instances, they have neither the knowledge nor the finances. I can provide both. I will share the wealth."

"I'm sure," Jim replied sarcastically. "Ninety percent for you, ten percent for the tribes." He pushed himself to his feet. "You might as well release me or kill me, Norwood. I am not going to be persuaded to your way of thinking."

Norwood appeared unperturbed. "That remains to be seen. Maybe I haven't played all my cards yet." He looked toward Matthew, who quickly dropped his gaze.

"Mr. Norwood, the captain isn't stupid," Pierce Madden said, pleasantly. "He'll come around. This is just kind of sudden for him, right, Captain?" Jim fixed the former corporal with an icy stare. Unlike Matt, Madden simply grinned. "Captain West always pays his debts, Mr. Norwood. He owes me big time. He knows that. He's an honorable man."

WWWWW

Artemus Gordon paced around the small confines of the varnish car, his frustrations and anxieties boiling over. _Where are you, James? I have no clue where to look. These mountains are too extensive! I've never felt more helpless in my life! All I know is that you are somewhere in these mountains, between here and Hamilton… a vast, rugged area._

James West should have met him here at the siding yesterday. Ordinarily, a delay of twenty-four hours might not have bothered Artie that much. This one did, however. He had never felt easy about the whole situation, he knew now. The joy of being with Lily had overshadowed the unsettled sensations for awhile. Almost as soon as he had reached Missoula, the fretfulness had returned, even before the appointed meeting time. Somehow he had known that James was not going to show up. Pierce Madden was not to be trusted.

Gordon had contacted the authorities in Missoula. When they stated they had had not seen nor heard from James West, he had asked them to contact the law in towns on this side and the opposite side of the mountains into which Jim and Madden had ventured. Thus far, every answer received had been the same. Neither man had been seen since they left Hamilton nearly a week ago now.

Because Jim had not known exactly where Madden was going to take him, the location of this "lodge," Artemus had no notion of where to start looking. The sheriff in Missoula had frowned and shaken his head when asked about a hunting lodge belonging to Loren Norwood. He had no knowledge of its existence, let alone its location. The question had been posed in the wires to the other towns, with similar answers, although one sheriff acknowledged he had met Norwood several years previous.

"What do I do, James? Where do I start?" Artemus threw his hands in the air, then expelled a long breath. _First, Artemus, you start thinking rationally. You find a guide. The sheriff should be able to recommend a good one. You get a guide, supplies, maps of the area… then head out. Wherever Jim West is, he's waiting for you. Relying on you. He never let you down, Artemus. You can't let him down._

The little talking-to, aloud and in his head, helped calm him down some. The weather was still good at least. Although clouds and chilly temperatures had been lingering over the area, no snow had fallen except at the very summit of the highest peaks. That was a plus. With any luck, they would be able to find a trail, some sign of the men's presence…

_Why would Pierce Madden want to do any harm to Jim West? Jim was his meal-ticket. When Madden got into any difficulty, financial or otherwise, he knew all he had to do was call on James West. _Artemus shook his head. The pair must have gotten into some sort of trouble. An accident maybe, with one or both injured. All the more reason to get going. He…

Hearing the sound on the platform outside the car, Artemus turned expectantly, hoping the door would open to reveal the smiling face of his missing friend. Instead, a knock sounded. Could be someone with some news, he told himself, swiftly crossing to pull the door open. He stared at the tall, handsome man standing there.

"American Knife!"

The Cheyenne medicine man grinned. "Surprise, Gordon. Are you going to ask me in?"

"Of course, of course. Come on in. I apologize. I am a bit distracted, and your appearance startled me."

The Indian stepped inside. He was garbed in leather breeches, a feather in his long dark hair, but wore a heavy plaid woolen jacket. "I spoke to the sheriff. I know that West is missing. I have come to help."

"You have? That's wonderful! How?" Artemus stared at the man. "Do you know where Norwood's lodge is?"

"No. This is not my territory. I was visiting some kin up near the Canadian border, with six of my men. We were on our way home. But one of my braves once lived in this area, working as a hunting guide. May I bring him in?"

"Please do!" Suddenly Artemus Gordon felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. He was no longer alone.

WWWWWW

Jim West got an idea of the setup at the lodge at supper that first evening. He had seen a number of men coming in and out of the building, usually to talk to Norwood, but because he was unable to see any of them up close, he had difficulty telling one from the other, or counting them. They all wore similar heavy coats against the growing chill of the weather, hats pulled low, and thus appeared very much alike. As well, the collars of those coats were usually turned up. About the only one he recognized was the big man, Kansas.

All apparently had come in to partake of the meal. Jim counted eight men besides Matthew, Pierce, and Norwood. Formidable odds. He had faced similar in the past, and had even overcome them. One problem was he had no notion of where he was. Once he exited the lodge, he would have to follow the sun and stars to try to find civilization. As far as that went, he had not seen much of the outside, except glimpses through windows, and was unsure where the horses were. He had not yet been able to look through a window that gave him a view of any other buildings in the vicinity, such as a stable. Going on foot would be worse than foolhardy. Yet he knew that if that option arose, he would take it. Would have to take it.

So he had spent the first and second days watching and listening. Primarily he listened to Pierce Madden's whining, and watched Matthew. Jim was certain Matthew had something to say to him, something he did not want to say. A couple of times, he had seen Norwood corner Matthew to speak to him with some evident anger. Matt appeared to acquiesce, yet Jim felt that his brother had not yet carried out whatever Norwood wanted him to do. Matt avoided any situation that would put him alone with his brother, and in particular had not come to his room again.

During the second evening meal, Jim came to realize that his best chance at escaping might be at hand. He was pretty certain that no man remained outside as a sentry; all were at the table. Jim suspected that Norwood's confidence in his situation excluded the necessity of a constant guard outside. Jim's own chair at the table this evening was near the door to the kitchen. Now or never. Even if he could not find the horses, he would at least be free. James West was pretty certain that eventually Norwood would order his death rather than release him if he continued to refuse to cooperate.

No one was paying any particular attention to him. Jim picked up his coffee cup, drained it, and looked around. The servant was not in sight. Murmuring something about wanting more coffee, he casually got to his feet, carrying the cup, and pushed through the door into the kitchen, closing it behind me. The young man was at the table, slicing off more of the roast that had been served. His eyes widened as he saw Jim.

_"Águila de Oro!" _he whispered hoarsely.

"You're Comanche?" Jim asked. "Golden Eagle" had been the name bestowed on him by a friendly band of Comanches in Texas.

"_Si_. My mother. Señor, hurry. They will come for you!"

"What's your name?"

"Luis Aguilar, Señor."

"I'd better hit you, Luis."

"_Si_!"

Jim slugged him hard enough to leave a good bruise, watched the youth collapse to the floor, then fled out the back door. The chill night air hit his face sharply. He would need something warmer than the wool flannel shirt he was wearing if he expected to survive very long. If he could find the horses, maybe a coat, or at least a blanket would be available.

The sky was overcast, so that no starlight or moonlight was available. He kept moving, swiftly but cautiously, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he saw the shapes of trees on the surrounding slopes, and then spotted the looming bulk of a building. He headed for it.

A barn or stable, but the door he found was securely fastened with a padlock. Jim muttered a curse about not having his picklock. He had not even brought one along on this supposed pleasure trip. Next best thing might be to find a window that was open, or loose, perhaps even with a glass pane he could shatter. He moved along the side of the building, looking as well as feeling for some sort of entrance. He was pretty sure horses were inside; he could not only hear their sounds, but smelled them.

A yell emanated from the lodge just as he reached the far corner of the building. His absence had been discovered. Glancing back, Jim saw the back door open, men spilling out, illuminated by the light from the kitchen. Norwood's voice thundered.

"I want him alive! Damn it! I want him alive!"

_That's something to be thankful for. But I don't think I want to be taken back there to face him._

He had no choice now but to head into the woods to try to hide. If he could find a place to secrete himself that was not too far away, could be he would have a chance to get a horse before morning. Getting hold of a weapon of some sort would be a great help. First things first, and his primary purpose now was to escape capture.

"There he is!" someone yelled. "He just went around the corner!"

Jim heard the thud of footsteps just as he left the shelter of the building's deep shadows to dash for the woods. Someone was coming up fast behind him, and he was pretty certain others were circling the barn. Gaining the nearest undergrowth, he dived underneath. He could not risk making too much noise now by crashing through the woods in the darkness.

The yells continued, and one of the calls was a request for lanterns. Within minutes, several bulls-eye-style lanterns were in the hands of the searchers, probably secured from the barn. With those reflective lights, the glow could be concentrated ahead of the searchers. Jim West knew he would be in big trouble if he could not leave the brush and get further into the woods. Yet the seekers were already beyond him, in the area he would need to pass through.

"He's got to be near," a man said, standing just a few feet away, turning his lantern this way and that. Jim drew his legs up to his body, seeking to be as small as possible while trying to not disturb the branches of the sheltering bush.

Although to Jim West, the time crept by slowly, each minute seeming to be the length of an hour or more, he was quite aware that only a few minutes had elapsed when he recognized the voice of Kansas not more than a dozen feet away. "Hey! Come here! Let's get organized!"

Through the sheltering bushes, Jim watched the lanterns and shadows move as the men gathered around Kansas, who must hold some authority, he decided. No one quibbled as he began to give orders, instructing them to form a line on either side of him, paralleling the barn. "Pull your irons and start shooting," Kansas commanded. "Walk forward, and lay down an enfilade. That'll drive him out."

"Kansas," one man spoke up. "Boss said take him alive."

"I think he'd rather have West dead than give him a chance to escape and bring in the army," was the flat reply.

Jim tensed. If they started shooting from the barn, he would be directly in the line of fire. _Damn it! I took Kansas to be a big dumb gorilla. That he certainly is not. I'm going to have to surrender and live another day._ He spoke quietly. "Here I am, boys."

He did not expect to be treated gently when he appeared, and he was not. Two men seized his arms, twisting them painfully behind him as they shoved him toward the hulking Kansas, who glared in the lantern-light. "You interrupted my supper, West."

As Kansas stepped toward him, raising a threatening fist, Jim West took advantage of the leverage offered by the two men grasping his arms to hoist his booted feet and slam them into Kansas's chest. Roaring in pain, the big man stumbled backward. At the same moment, Jim sensed that the men holding him loosened their grips in the moment of surprise. With a sharp twist of his agile body, he freed himself, driving a fist into the chin of the man on his left, and lunging after him as the man collapsed. Jim grabbed the pistol from his holster, rolled over, pointing it toward Kansas and other men who were converging.

"Easy, gentlemen," Jim said in a soft voice, climbing to his feet. He made a quick count. The same instant he realized only seven men were visible, something hard slammed against the back of his shoulders.

Staggered by the blow, Jim stumbled forward, and he was a captive again. This time some sort of cord was produced to bind his wrists behind him. Kansas loomed over him, his large fist slamming into Jim's midsection. Jim West sank to his knees, gasping for painful breaths.

Kansas grabbed his hair and jerked his head up. "Did you hear what I said, West? My supper is getting cold!" He slapped Jim hard across the mouth, and brought the same hand back as a brutal backhand. When his head was released, West fell sideways, hard on his shoulder, feeling the stinging pain and tasting the salty blood from his cut mouth, all the while trying to get his breathing back to normal. His head was spinning.

A boot toe shoved him over, and then that same hard toe slammed into his ribs. Jim could not suppress the grunt of pain. Kansas laughed aloud, and kicked him again. Jim later wondered how long the beating would have continued had not Norwood called through the darkness, demanding a progress report.

Jim West was grabbed by the arms and dragged back toward the lodge, Kansas calling a response to his boss. "We got him, Mr. Norwood. He acted up, so he's a bit bloody. But he's alive."

Jim was still having trouble breathing, his ribs and abdomen on fire as they dropped him roughly onto the kitchen floor.

"My God, what did you do to him?" Matthew's voice pierced the haze in Jim's brain. "Jimmy! Jimmy! Come on, kid. I'll take care of you. Pierce! Help me get him upstairs."

The hands that lifted him now were more gentle, but the voice that called after them was not. "Matt! It can get worse if you don't do what I instructed. Soon as he's good and awake, you tell him! I'm losing my patience with both of you!"

WWWWWW

It started to snow. Lightly at first, around the time they were setting up camp for the night. Artemus awakened in the darkness to discover his blankets were covered with the white stuff. Lifting his head, he saw American Knife adding wood to the already large fire. Although Artie believed he had not made a sound, the Cheyenne medicine man turned and looked his way.

"This will not make it any easier, Gordon."

"Any idea what time it is?"

"Perhaps two hours before dawn."

Artemus slid out of his blankets, and immediately rolled them up. "I'm not going to sleep anymore," he muttered. How could he? Young Wolf, the Cheyenne who had the knowledge of the area, had stated earlier that he was certain they were in the vicinity of the Norwood hunting lodge, but further searching was going to be necessary. Young Wolf did not know the exact location, because it had not been constructed at the time he had last resided in the region. He had only known that its construction was being planned by a rich white man.

"What do you think? A bad storm?" Artie asked as he moved nearer the fire.

"It is difficult to say. I am not familiar with these mountains. At home, I would say no." American Knife looked toward his still sleeping men, the forms now becoming mounds of white, then brought his dark eyes back to Artemus. "West should not have come."

"I know, I know." The shaman had complained about this previously. "But Jim West is a man of honor. He owes a debt to the man who asked him to go along on this trip."

"Yes. As you say. A man who saves your life, that is a debt that may never be fully repaid."

Artemus looked at the man on the other side of the flames. "You saved Jim's life as well, yet you are not asking for repayment."

American Knife considered this a moment. "That is not true. I demand Jim West's friendship."

Artie had to laugh. "Yeah, that's a real hard payment for Jim to make!" His mirth faded. "I cannot help but worry that one or both has been injured and they are somewhere waiting for help."

"You think they did not find this hunting lodge?"

"That's the problem. I don't know. To be honest, I'm not sure it exists. I've told you, I don't trust this Pierce Madden. I cannot imagine what other reason he would have had for luring Jim West here, however."

"To bring Jim West as a guest is a great accomplishment, which would reflect well on Madden."

"That appeared to be the whole idea. Madden wanted to impress this Loren Norwood with the company he keeps. Jim didn't like it, but…" Artemus shook his head. "As has been said, he feels he owes Madden more than he could ever repay, and this trek was small recompense."

American Knife lifted his face into the gently falling flakes. "When the sun rises, the light is not going to be much improved. I will wake my men and we will get a good start before the snow becomes too deep… if it does."

"I'll start the coffee," Artemus Gordon agreed, glad that the medicine man had made the suggestion which had been at the back of his own mind. _Just hang on, Jim. Wherever you are, whatever has happened, just hang on. We're coming!_

WWWWW

For the second time in three days, James West roused to a hazy world. This time, when he tried to move, pain accompanied the fog, eliciting a grunt of pain. Immediately a shadow loomed over him, but the hands that pressed on his shoulders and the voice that spoke were quieting.

"Lay still, Jimmy. You'll be all right."

"Matthew… you said…"

Jim closed his eyes a moment. Had he dreamed it? Matthew leaning over him, gently laving away the blood on his face. How many times had he done that in the past?

_**Jimmy, you have to stop this fighting. Walk away from them. Walk away! Mother wouldn't want you to do this.**_

He recalled the words Matt spoke last night: _"Jim, why did you do that? Norwood might have had you killed! He's right though, I should have told you… I know where Father is…" _

Jim West had slipped into unconsciousness with those words echoing in his head.

"He's alive, Jim. Our father is still alive."

_**Jimmy, why do you keep challenging those boys? I keep telling you, walk away. Ignoring them is the best way to handle them.**_

_**I can't, Matt. I can't let them say what they're saying about Father, even if it's true. I'm no coward…**_

Jim opened his eyes again. Matt was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was in his shirtsleeves, the jacket he had been wearing last night carelessly tossed on the soft chair, the same one he had been occupying that first morning morning. A good fire in the small fireplace was warming the room.

"No. He can't be. It's been nearly thirty years… they found his body…" Jim searched his brother's face, looking for signs of truth or dishonesty. Matt's eyes met his directly.

"He's alive. I've seen him, talked to him."

Without thinking, Jim tried to lift himself up, falling back with a grunt of pain as agony shot through his ribs and abdomen. "Just stay still, Jim. When you stirred awhile back, I went down and ask Luis to bring some coffee. He should be here in a minute."

"Matt, you're lying. Why would Father seek you out, and not me? I'm more well-known…" Even as he said the words, the answer came to him. Matt voiced it.

"Because of your job, Jim. He didn't want to place you in a position of having to make such a decision."

The room door opened and Luis Aguilar entered, carrying a tray. The bruise on his cheek was livid but Jim hoped the injury had saved him from further chastisement. "Señor West," he said quietly, placing the tray on the table, "I hope you feel well soon."

"_Gracias, amigo. No preocuparte de mí. Tomar el cuidado de se."_

Luis smiled briefly, nodded uncertainly toward Matthew, and hurried out. Matt was frowning. "What did you say to him?"

"You don't speak Spanish?" The exchange with Luis had simply been to tell the boy to look after himself, to not worry about James West.

"No. Never had occasion to learn."

"I don't know the language as well as my partner, but I get by. Anyone else here speak Spanish?"

Matthew scowled at him. "I don't know. Don't start thinking about plotting something with Luis. He's just a dumb kid. Norwood brought him from Texas to do the cooking. Jim, it's snowing, and coming down pretty good right now. Even if you had gotten away last night, likely by now you'd be half frozen! Don't you understand? We are deep in the Bitterroots, miles from civilization. You were unarmed…"

"Stop acting like a big brother, Matt. You gave up that act a long time ago." Jim could not keep the acrid anger from his voice and face.

Matt sighed, reaching to the tray that Luis had placed down. He filled a cup with the steaming brew, then carefully lifted his brother's head so he could take a couple of sips. Jim winced when the hot cup touched his sore mouth, and again as the liquid descended his throat into his stomach. But he experienced the bracing effects almost immediately.

"What's this about Father?" he asked then. "Some scheme Norwood conjured up? I'm not going to buy it, Matt. The records say he's dead."

"The records are wrong, Jim. I swear to you, Nevin West is alive. I spoke to him just weeks ago, before I headed here to join Norwood."

Jim stared. He wanted to retort with a comment about the value of Matthew West's word. The expression on Matt's face was different now. He did not avoid Jim's stare, brown eyes meeting green head-on. Had he learned some acting over the years?

"Where is he?"

Matt shook his head slowly, deep sadness entering his gaze now. "I can't tell you."

"Why not? I won't arrest him. My God, Matthew, he's my father too!" Jim realized his words were indicating his belief and trust in the story. _Do I believe? How can I? I saw the report of the Chicago police. The body identified as that of one Nevin Matthew West, pulled from Lake Michigan…_

Matthew got up then, still holding the coffee cup, walking over to the window. Jim twisted his head slightly to watch him. Through the glass, he could see the snow falling, soft, large flakes, the kind that covered the ground quickly. _Yeah, I could have been in deep trouble had I gotten away… but maybe no worse than I am now._

"Matt, where is he?"

Matt spoke without turning around. "That's part of the deal, Jimmy. You help Loren Norwood… and the rest of us… and I'll take you to our father."

"You bastard."

Matt West spun then, his face anguished. "I couldn't help it, Jim! I couldn't help it!"

"Like hell!" Now Jim forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pain it caused, swinging his legs out over the edge of the bed. Although his boots had been removed, he was still wearing the same clothes from last night. "You're a greedy, lying bastard, Matthew. I don't even believe you have a wife and children!"

Anger replaced the anguish on Matthew's countenance as he took a step for the chair, seeming to then realize for the first time that he was still holding the coffee cup. He placed the cup on a nearby bureau before continuing to the chair, where he picked up his coat to dig in an inside pocket for a leather folder, about four inches square. This he brought to the bed and handed to Jim, who opened it.

On either side were photographs. One was of a lovely woman with light curls. Even in the stiff pose required for such photography sessions, her beauty and life was evident. The other picture was of three children, a girl around ten, another a couple of years younger, and a boy of five or six.

Jim closed the folder. "You could have gotten these pictures anywhere," he said harshly.

Matthew grabbed it, opened it again, thrusting it in front of his brother's face. "Look at that boy, James! His name is Matthew James West. Look at him! He's you at the same age!"

Reluctantly, Jim glanced at the photograph. He had seen it the first time. The boy with the dark hair and big eyes. He could not discern the color, of course, but he knew the eyes were green. He looked up at his brother. "All right. So they exist. But how much of the rest of your story is true?"

"All of it, Jim. All of it. And more."

"What do you mean?"

Matt grabbed a smaller chair from near the window, dragged it over, sitting down and leaning toward Jim, arms on his thighs. "If I don't convince you to join in Norwood's plan, he'll kill you and send me to prison."

"Get me that coffee."

Matt was momentarily startled by the abrupt change in subject, but he rose to bring the cup back, taking his chair again, now silently watching as Jim took a couple of deep swallows.

"What has he got on you?" Jim asked then.

"He framed me for stealing some money from the firm's office in Montreal. It's a good frame, Jim. A tight one. There are people ready to testify. I go to prison and Therese and the children could be on the streets. It's that simple."

"It's never that simple, Matt. Norwood knows about our father?" What was Matt holding back now? Jim knew something had been left unsaid. He felt it in his guts, saw it in the way his brother's eyes flickered away from his own.

"Yeah. He knew some of it before he started buttering me up. Got me drunk… and I get talkative when I get drunk."

"So… you told him Nevin West is alive, and where he is?"

Matt heaved a long, noisy sigh. "I also told him that you have no knowledge of it, and why."

"So he thinks I'll cooperate in order to gain that information."

The tightness in his brother's voice and face caused Matt's eyes to narrow a moment. "You want to see Father don't you?"

Jim looked toward the window again, brought his eyes back to his brother's anxious face. "I don't see why I should. I don't even remember him." _Not entirely true. I remember a man with a wonderful laugh and warm green eyes, throwing me in the air, hugging me when I became momentarily frightened, laughing heartily when I demanded to be tossed up again._

"He's followed your career, Jimmy," Matt said softly. "He's very proud of you. Even has a collection of newspaper articles, starting with the one about your heroism at Vicksburg. He was in Washington that day when they held the ceremonies where you got your medal."

Jim West was startled. That overcast day in December of sixty-four, when he had reluctantly attended a ceremony on the White House portico, receiving a handshake from President Lincoln, the Medal of Honor pinned to his tunic. A hundred people or so had witnessed the event, primarily friends and families of the honorees. He tried to remember faces he had seen, but nothing came to him. The only person he had known in attendance, other than General Grant and a few other high-ranking officers, had been his good friend Artemus Gordon.

He had not been looking for, nor expecting any family. As far as he had been concerned at the time, and until encountering Matthew two days ago, Jim West considered himself without a family. Artemus Gordon had been, and was, his family, his brother in all but blood. _Father was there?_

"Why didn't he make himself known? I was not a government agent at that time."

"He wanted to, Jim. But he was afraid. He had just managed to get himself declared dead…"

"Did he kill that man in Chicago too?" Jim's voice crackled with rage.

"No, no! He just took advantage of a situation. He found a dead man laying on a dock, a man who resembled him greatly. He put papers in the man's clothes, added the watch with his name engraved… and pushed him into the water. Did they give you the watch?"

"They did." _I wanted to smash it, throw it away. But I kept it, now buried in a chest on the train. I haven't looked at it since the day I stashed it there. I don't think Artie has ever seen it._

"Good. He wanted you to have it, always planned it was going to be yours, because it had been a gift from Uncle James. The last thing Uncle James gave to him before he died."

The uncle for whom he had been named had died several years before James Templeton West was born, thus he had never known him. Jim took a long swallow of his coffee, which was now lukewarm. He must have made a face, because Matt picked up the small pot on the tray and silently refilled the cup before asking, "Do you want some breakfast?"

"No. I don't think my stomach could handle it."

Matt sighed. "Jim, I'm sorry that happened. I wanted to go out and be there if you were found, but Norwood wouldn't let me. He kept both me and Pierce inside. Though I imagine Pierce would have enjoyed watching you being beaten." The last words were growled.

Jim frowned. "Why would you say that?"

"He hates you, Jim."

_I've long suspected that._ "He blames me for his injury."

"Not exactly. Jim, Pierce Madden did not deliberately throw himself in front of that bomb to save your life."

"What? What do you mean? He pushed me down…"

Matt was angry now, his eyes flashing. "I'm not the only one who talks too much after a few drinks. Pierce did not intentionally save your life, Jim. It was an accident. He saw the shell coming in, was trying to get out of the way… the hell with whoever else was in the line of fire… and tripped. In doing so, he fell against you, knocking you out of harm's way."

"And lost the use of his arm in the process." Jim spoke through a clenched jaw, remembering all the times his own guilt and gratitude had been used against him, including accompanying Madden on this trip.

"Yeah. When he realized he was being hailed as a hero, he decided to take advantage of it. Madden thinks it's all pretty funny."

"I imagine he would." _I should have known. Nothing in Pierce Madden's behavior, either at the university or after we enlisted, indicated he was a self-sacrificing type. Yet… _"The only other man in the vicinity was killed," Jim said softly. "Everyone jumped to conclusions. I was concussed by the blast and really had no memory of what happened, other than I was alive and Pierce was seriously injured."

Matt finally took advantage of the second cup on the tray, filling it for himself. "When did you leave New York, Jimmy?"

"I kept my promise to Mom and finished school."

Matthew frowned. "You couldn't have been more than sixteen…"

"I was fifteen. I couldn't stay any longer, Matt. I was tired of being Nevin West's kid. Aunt Sybil wanted to sell the house and go live with her cousin in Syracuse. I was the only thing holding her back. So I left."

"Yet you ended up attending a university."

"In Indiana. I roved around quite a bit for a couple of years, working odd jobs to support myself. I guess I was not quite seventeen when I hired on working in the garden at the home of a Professor Robey, a member of the faculty at the nearby university. He taught archeology. For some reason, he liked me, and he talked me into going back to school."

"But you didn't graduate?"

"No. The war intervened. I had ideas about returning once the fighting ended, but like most people, I never expected it to last as long as it did. By that time, I was finished with schooling. And I found I had other talents." _What about you, Matt? Where did you go after the blonde dumped you in New York City? You mentioned Montana…_ Jim West wondered why he was experiencing a deep reluctance to ask his brother these questions. Matt had said he had been too cowardly to return to their town in upstate New York. What if he now admitted he had not wanted to, had no interest in his kid brother's welfare?

"Matt, where is our father?" Jim posed the question once more.

And again, Matt shook his head sadly. "I can't tell you, Jim. It would mean my life, and yours. Agree to cooperate with Norwood. Once the money is in our hands, we'll both go see him. If you don't want the money for yourself, give it to Father. He could use it to hire an attorney, maybe a detective, to prove his innocence…"

"His innocence!" Jim West exploded, almost jumping to his feet. Only the sharp pain his own words caused in his chest reminded him to remain still. "Matthew, surely you don't believe some cock-and-bull story he told you! He murdered those men! There was never any doubt!"

Matt leaned forward slightly. "There _is_ doubt, Jim. Father can tell you the whole story."

"What became of Francine Woodrow? Is she with him?"

"No, and she never was. That's part of it, Jim. Father says that Mrs. Woodrow did the killing. He was never involved with her."

"And you believe him?"

"I do." Matt spoke without hesitation. He got to his feet. "You need to rest, Jim. You took quite a mauling last night."

"Am I a prisoner in this room?"

"No, I don't think so. The door isn't locked. But I think it would be better if you stayed here awhile. Think about what I just told you. Jim. Consider it this way. The Indian tribes aren't doing anything with the valuable elements on their property. Norwood will help them cash in. You heard him say he doesn't want all of it…"

"You're pretty gullible, aren't you, Matthew? You believe the old man's story, and you believe Norwood."

"I have to," Matt snapped back. "I want to live. I want to be able to take care of my family!" He spun and stalked to the door. "Think it over, Jim."

"Ask Luis to bring me some hot water," Jim West responded casually, much more mildly than he felt. "I'd like to wash up and shave."

WWWWWW

Artemus Gordon held the hot tin cup of coffee between his gloved hands, savoring the warmth on his fingers, as well as that which flowed down his throat when he took a swallow. He watched American Knife and the two men with whom he was conversing, the two braves who had been rather late in returning to camp. Artie had decided that although he had displayed little emotion, the Cheyenne leader had been concerned about his men and relieved when they showed up safely.

He could discern that the conversation was important, but because they were speaking in their native tongue, Artemus could not grasp the content. Several times the two men gestured, as though describing a distance or a direction. He saw one hold up one hand, fingers spread, and then a finger on the other hand. Six something. Miles? Men? Artie held onto his patience tightly, even while being certain that the men had brought back some information concerning his missing partner and friend.

Finally American Knife clapped each man on the shoulder, as if in gratitude and commendation, then obviously gave them orders to tend to their horses, because that's the direction the pair took as their chief turned around. The other four braves had been listening intently. They at least had the advantage of understanding the language. All Artemus could do was wait.

He knew better than to demand an explanation immediately. American Knife would tell it in his own way and time. The tall Cheyenne came to the fire, picked up his cup and filled it from the large pot. He had complained half-heartedly several times how he had acquired this white man's habit of drinking coffee while at Dartmouth. Apparently he had shared the habit with his tribe, for all six men also enjoyed the brew.

"They found the lodge," American Knife said after taking a couple of warming swallows. "It lies about three miles east of here, in a high, small valley."

"Did they see Jim?" Artemus could not contain himself any longer.

The Cheyenne shook his head slowly. "They saw at least six men who went out to do chores, take care of horses. They did see a black horse. A fine black horse."

"Jim's," Artie murmured. "Six men? No others?"

"No others. Not the man you described to be this Pierce Madden. They are not certain they saw all the men there. Many horses in the corral might indicate more than the six. But they saw movement within the house, through the windows. Whoever was inside yet did not emerge into the cold and snowy day."

"No," Artie nodded. "Man like Loren Norwood would have hired men to do the physical work while he sits by the fire." _With Jim, I hope. He's got to be there. But why the delay in traveling to Missoula? The snow did not start until last night. Weather could not have been a factor._

"What do you wish to do, Gordon?"

Artemus was slightly surprised that American Knife was giving him the options. But he had already come up with a plan. "I need to go in there and see what's going on. Could be it's all very innocent. Perhaps Norwood convinced Jim to stay longer. After all, the excuse that we had to report to Washington was a false one."

"But you were awaiting him."

"Yes, and that's the part that worries me. I know Jim West. He would have gotten word to me somehow. With at least six hired men there, one could have been sent out to the nearest telegraph."

"So you wish to go alone?"

"Yes. I think I can pull it off. Jim is my partner and friend, and I was naturally concerned about his health and safety. After all, I was included in the original invitation."

"We wait?"

"You wait. I hope you'll be able to find a position to watch the lodge without being seen yourselves, so that if necessary, I can signal you. We'll need to make some contingency plans."

American Knife grinned. "I like contingency plans."

WWWWWW

"I find it very strange, Mr. West, that you are not interested in reuniting with your long lost father."

Leaning his head against the cushioned high back chair, Jim turned slightly, so as to see Norwood, seated across from him on the sofa. "I don't even remember my father. I was not quite two when he… left home. He's just a name to me." He kept his voice very flat and emotionless.

Behind Norwood, leaning against the fireplace mantle, the man Kansas was an imposing presence. Although nothing had been said, Jim got the distinct impression that Kansas Story had been assigned as his personal guard. The big man had been nearby from the moment he emerged from the upstairs room to make his way down the stairs. Jim hoped that Kansas was as sore from the kick administered last night as he himself was.

Pierce Madden was also seated nearby. His stare was angry and disbelieving. Matthew lolled in an easy chair, glum and silent. At least he had not attempted to refute anything his brother was saying. Matthew could have related how young Jim West took on all comers back in New York, especially anyone who cast aspersions against the father he was now claiming meant nothing to him.

Luis had brought a large pitcher of hot water to the room and remained to talk for a few minutes. He indicated he was very eager and willing to help _Águila de Oro_, a man he had not previously met but had been told about. Jim cautioned him to continue his duties in order to not incur any suspicion.

After carefully shaving, washing up, and donning a clean shirt, Jim had come downstairs where he found Loren Norwood awaiting him in great anticipation. He had been informed that Matthew placed the new conditions in front of his brother. Jim suspected Matthew had also indicated to Norwood that his brother was ready to cooperate. Upon learning different, Norwood became angry, as well as disbelieving.

"You can't mean that!" Pierce Madden cried now. "Captain, you've got to help us! Help me!"

Jim West turned cold green eyes toward the former corporal. "I think I've done enough for you, Pierce."

Madden was confused. "Captain, I lost the use of my arm because of you…"

"So you led me to believe. I've since learned differently."

Madden stared at him a long moment, then turned his gaze to Matthew. "What did you tell him?"

Jim thought that his brother came very close to smiling. However, he just shrugged. "I figured there wasn't any use in keeping secrets anymore. If Jim isn't going to take the deal in order to meet his father again, he sure as hell isn't going to do it to help you!"

Norwood was staring hard at Jim West. "I don't believe you, West. I don't know what you think you're going to gain by these delaying tactics. They aren't going to work. Either you agree to my plan or you, and your brother, are dead men."

Jim heard Matthew's gasp. He himself kept a taut rein on his emotions. "Nothing I can do about that."

"Mr. Norwood!" Madden pled. "You aren't going to give up that easily! Without West…"

"Without West it will be much more difficult," Norwood concurred. "But I'm not giving up. It might take killing off a few stubborn chiefs until I find one who's willing to cooperate." He kept his eyes on Jim, who was aware of the scrutiny. Norwood wanted him to react to such brutality.

"You're pretty sure of yourself, Norwood," Jim said quietly. "Killing a few chiefs is going to bring attention. From the army, from the Indian Bureau, among others."

"Nothing for you to concern yourself with. You'll be buried under the snow, never to be seen again."

"I hope I'll be missed." Jim glanced at Madden, who was looking alarmed now, perhaps imagining the questions he would have to endure if he returned to the world at large without his well-known companion. Or perhaps he was wondering if Norwood was planning to bury Pierce Madden along with the West brothers.

"Oh, I'm sure you will be," Norwood chuckled. "I'm sure huge search parties will be organized. Poor Madden will be quite distraught. We'll have a good story worked out about how Jim and Matthew West encountered each other here in the wilds, and how Jim West went berserk because of past slights. Imagine our horror when we awakened one morning to find both men gone… never to be seen again." He grinned at Jim, while Pierce Madden visibly relaxed.

"But don't worry, Mr. West," Norwood continued after a moment. "I'm not going to act in haste. I still don't believe you when you say you aren't interested in either meeting your father or in saving your brother's life. I'm going to give you twenty-four hours to consider your decision. Perhaps watching Matthew receive an even more severe pummeling that you did might help?"

"You're overstating brotherly love," Jim said dryly. "Twenty years ago, Matthew deserted me, just as our father had deserted our family. What happens to them is of no concern to me."

Norwood gazed at him thoughtfully. "You almost convince me, West. Almost. But not quite. Twenty-four hours and…"

The sharp rap on the front door startled everyone. Norwood scowled. "Why aren't they using the back door? Kansas, open it!"

Jim could hear the murmur of another voice after Kansas opened the door, and he also saw the surprise in the shift of the man's broad shoulders. The hired man who came to the front door must be delivering some unwelcome news. Then Kansas stepped back, and Jim West froze in astonishment.

"Mr. Norwood!" Pierce Madden came to his feet. "That's Artemus Gordon!"

Artemus paused inside, pulling off his hat, smiling in his most deprecating manner. "Mr. Norwood? I'm sorry for this intrusion. But I'm most grateful for having stumbled onto your abode. I'm afraid I was worse than a babe in the woods out there, especially after it began to snow last night."

Loren Norwood was coming toward him, hand outstretched. _Easy to recognize Norwood. He looks the part of a robber baron._ Artemus jerked off his gloves and accepted the hand, trying not to stare passed Norwood at the three men still seated. He spotted Madden. He also saw Jim West and noted the bruises on his face, the swollen and cut mouth.

_Who the devil is the third man, the one who looks like James, but is not?_

"Mr. Gordon! You can't imagine what a pleasure this is. I was extremely disappointed when you did not arrive with your partner. Now our group is complete, and I think you are going to be able to provide me a great service."

"Well, I don't think I can object to that, Mr. Norwood, in return for your hospitality." Artie spoke affably as he stripped off his heavy coat. The giant of a man who had opened the door stepped over to take it.

"Kansas," Norwood said, "go find someone to take care of Mr. Gordon's horse. Make sure things are all right outside."

Artie pretended to not to understand that Norwood had just instructed his man to check the area to ensure that the newcomer had arrived alone. He turned and walked toward the cluster of sofas and chairs at the fireplace. Nodding at Madden, he looked down at the still seated Jim.

"Well, James. Looks like you ran into a door."

"Something like that," Jim replied. _What the hell are you doing here, Artemus?_ "I'm surprised to see you."

"Figured you might be." Artemus sat down on the chair next to Jim's, and his gaze went to the other man.

Jim saw the direction his partner was looking. _Hey, Artie, meet my big brother. Surprised?_ What the hell was he going to say to him? Artie had a right to be hurt, even angry.

"Mr. Gordon," Norwood said, returning. He did the honors. "I believe you know Mr. Madden. Are you acquainted with Matthew West, your partner's brother?"

"No," Artie said, dumbfounded. "We have never met." He rose to step over and extend his hand. "How do you do, Matthew." He had expected the man to be introduced as kin, but… brother?

"My pleasure, Mr. Gordon."

"Luis!" Norwood suddenly yelled. A moment later, the door at the back of the large room opened and the young man emerged, wiping his hands on a cloth.

"Si, Señor Norwood?"

"We have a new guest. Bring some coffee, then make sure the room adjoining James West's is ready."

"Si, Señor._"_ He hurried away.

Jim saw how Artie's brown eyes had scrutinized the boy, and how his gaze lingered as Luis scooted back toward the kitchen. Almost as though Artemus recognized Luis. Yet Luis had not displayed any signs of knowing Gordon.

"This is quite a place you have here, Mr. Norwood," Artie said genially. "Not something one would expect to find in the midst of this wilderness."

"Which is exactly why I built it, Mr. Gordon. I like the solitude. And it certainly is different from Texas, you'll have to admit."

"Indeed," Artemus murmured, gazing around the luxurious room. _His brother? Since when did Jim West have a brother? Why didn't he ever tell me?_

Luis returned with the coffee, then hurried up the stairs. Artemus noticed that Pierce Madden was not very happy. He had not spoken, and his sullen gaze alternated between the two West brothers. Pretty obviously something had occurred just prior to Artemus's arrival. He needed to get Jim aside to find out what that had been, as well as learn everything else happening here, not to mention to be able to inform Jim that American Knife and his men were in the surrounding hills.

After taking a couple of swallows of coffee, Artie cleared his throat. "Mr. Norwood, I feel a little strange imposing on you like this…"

"Nonsense, Mr. Gordon. As I said, you were expected to be accompanying James West. You arrived at an opportune moment, and your presence is going to be a great help."

"Artie," Jim said then, "I would imagine you'd like to wash up. Come on, I'll take you upstairs. That is, if Mr. Norwood has no objections."

"None at all, Mr. West. You can apprise Mr. Gordon of the situation here. I'm sure that your partner's health and comfort is of great importance to you."

As he pushed himself carefully to his feet, Jim did not miss the glitter in Norwood's eyes. Artemus could not have picked a worse time to show up. Jim knew what Norwood was thinking now: if James West would not respond to the threat to his brother, nor even to the opportunity to meet his long-absent father, perhaps a threat against his partner would do the trick. _And damn it, it might!_

Artemus could not fail to notice how carefully Jim moved as they ascended the stairs. Jim led him to a door along the upper landing, and they entered a nicely appointed bedroom. The young man, Luis, was there, building a fire on the small hearth. Artie smiled and nodded.

"Your name wouldn't happen to be Aguilar, would it?"

Luis showed his surprise, as did Jim. "Si, Señor Gordon. Have we met?"

"No, but I believe I know your uncle Enrique, in New Mexico. You are the image of him."

Luis grinned. "That's what _mi madre_ always said." His smile faded as he glanced at the door. "I must go."

Jim grabbed his arm. "Luis, did you come to this lodge willingly?"

"No, señor. I am a prisoner, just like you." He hurried out the door.

"So… you are not a guest," Artie said, turning to his partner.

Quickly Jim told him how he had been drugged that first night in the small cabin, then outlined Norwood's schemes. "I don't even know where the hell I am. How did you find it?"

"American Knife," Artie responded, and related his tale. "He and his six men are waiting for a signal." He sat down on the bed, bounced up and down a bit. "Seems comfortable enough."

"I haven't had much time to experience it. First night I was drugged, last night I was pretty much out cold after Kansas's health treatment." He sank into the soft chair.

Artemus gazed at him. "Matthew?"

Jim shrugged. "I didn't know he would be here. Seems he was brought in as a way of persuading me to go along with Norwood's scheme. That and…"

"And?" Artie prompted. He saw the shadow that washed over his partner's face. "How many secrets are you keeping from me, James?"

Jim sighed. "I'm sorry. It was—it never seemed important. As far as I was concerned, I haven't had a brother in twenty years."

"Jim… your brother… what did he do to you?"

"He's my half brother. We had different mothers." Might as well get it out. "And our father was a murderer and a thief."

"What? Jim…"

"His name was Nevin West. You may remember the name. Loveless mentioned it."

"Yes. And the mention stunned you into inaction." Permitting the insane little doctor to escape once more.

Jim sighed. "My father was a well-respected man in our town. He was partners with a man named Elias Woodrow. They owned and operated the local bank. In a town the size of ours, everyone used the sole bank and had all their savings deposited there. I was very young when it happened, not even two. Everything I know about it, I heard later. One morning the bank didn't open. When the constable broke in, he found Elias Woodrow and the clerk dead, shot, and every cent gone from the safe. It was soon also discovered that not only was Nevin West missing, but also Mrs. Francine Woodrow, his partner's beautiful young wife."

"Oh my God," Artemus murmured. Jim's face was expressionless, his voice almost flat. Artie, saw, nonetheless, the emotion in the green eyes. This was painful, even after thirty years.

"They were never seen again. Ten years ago, during the war, I got a letter from the police in Chicago. They had pulled a body from the lake bearing some papers that identified him as Nevin West. He also had a watch with his name engraved on it. They… sent me the watch."

Artemus frowned. "That was right after Shiloh."

Jim showed his surprise. "Yes. But why do you say that?"

"I just remember you were upset about something. Something you wouldn't talk about."

"I'm sorry," Jim said again. "It's not something I'm proud of… having a father like that."

"I would imagine," Artemus said slowly, "that the people in your town weren't too happy about it either."

"No," Jim sighed. "A man they trusted had betrayed them. Many lost their life savings. Elias Woodrow had been a good and respected friend to most. Both he and his wife had been leaders in society… along with my parents. Things changed. I… I was too young to realize at first, but as I got older, especially when I attended school, I learned what Matthew had been laboring under for those past five or six years after it happened. We were both subject to ridicule and taunts."

"Your mother…?"

"She was a proud and stubborn woman. She sold the house in an attempt to repay some of the lost money, but people were slow to forgive, even though she was also an object of pity for apparently having loved and trusted a man like Nevin West. We then lived in a small rented home."

"She wouldn't leave the area?"

"No. I think… sometimes I think she was certain Father was going to return, to clear himself, and she wanted to be there when he did. I was around seven when she became ill. She died about a year later. Matthew and I moved in with our Aunt Sybil, Mother's sister, who ran a boarding house. Matt was out of school by then, and working. He always… as much as he could, he protected me from the bullies who persisted in taunting me. I had a habit of fighting back, even though he always tried to convince me that I should just walk away.

"I depended on Matt. He was really all I had left. He promised… swore to always be there for me. Then… a couple months after my tenth birthday… I got up one morning and he was gone. Just gone. I never knew where or why, until yesterday, when he told me he had run off with a girl. She dumped him, but he did not come back. Never wrote."

"My God, Jim. I never suspected… I'm sorry."

Jim was surprised. "You're sorry? For what?"

"I'm not sure. I guess… maybe because I had a relatively normal childhood. I never imagined…"

"I apologize for never telling you. I suppose I somehow felt that if I didn't talk about it, it wasn't real. And now…"

"Now Matthew is back in your life. Is Norwood holding his safety over your head to get you to cooperate?"

"In a sense. Matthew did not entirely come here of his own free will, Artie. He… he's married, with three kids, living in Montreal. Seems he had a lot of bad luck, some of which was likely helped along by Norwood in order to rope Matt in easier. He also arranged a neat frame which could put Matt in prison for a long time. Norwood thought that Matt could convince me to participate partially because he's my brother, and…

"And? You keep halting at the most inopportune moments, James."

Jim West expelled another sigh. "Matt tells me our father is alive, Artie. Alive, and wants to see me."

"Well… that's good… isn't it?" Artemus studied his friend's expression, saw the confusion there.

"Maybe. Point is, Matt is not allowed to tell me where he is until the job with the Indians is completed."

"Good Lord! And you…?"

"I've told Norwood I'm not interested. Not in saving Matt's life, nor my own, and not in meeting my father. I'm not sure if he believes me. But now…"

"Now I'm here," Artemus said softly, comprehending. One more hammer to hold over James West's head. "Jim, we have to get word to American Knife. Pronto."

"How did you plan to do that?"

"I had hoped I would have some freedom of movement. I suspect that's not going to be the case. Unfortunately, the windows of this room do not face the location where the Cheyenne are waiting."

"Right. We might be able to use Luis. He has some freedom due to his job. Where did you meet his uncle? I don't remember him."

"New Mexico, Jim. Last year. He was on the search party that was organized to look for you."

"Oh."

Artemus gazed at his friend for a moment. A year ago, while they were in New Mexico seeking gunrunners, Jim had vanished, not to reappear until six weeks later with a tale of being wounded from ambush and cared for by an elderly widow, a hermit of sorts, who lived deep in the mountains. As he had sensed then, Artemus still felt that Jim was holding back on some aspect of the incident. The way Jim turned away now seemed to confirm that.

"You know," Artemus said softly, "you have a habit of disappearing from time to time… such as now."

Jim looked back after a moment, having gathered himself. He smiled briefly. "Can I help it if I'm popular on the social scene? By the way, Matt told me that he doesn't think anyone here speaks Spanish. We might try some tests with Luis in the presence of others, something innocuous."

"Good thought. Jim, what kind of riches does Norwood think is on the Indian lands?"

"He hasn't been specific, but I'm assuming valuable ores, maybe even oil. He wouldn't get very far with a tribe led by a man such as American Knife, even with my help, but others…" Jim shook his head. Some Indian agents might be buffaloed by a man with Norwood's influence and wealth. Buffaloed or bribed.

"Too bad he's so greedy. An honest man might be able to make a fair deal with the tribes… not to mention the government."

"I think that's a big part of it. He doesn't want to cut the government in at all. I suspect that any digging for ore, for instance, would be done in as much secrecy as possible."

"So what now? Getting Luis to help is a good idea, but it might not something we can do immediately."

"Yeah. I don't know how much time we have left. I have a notion that when I go downstairs I'm going to be warned about what might happen to you if I don't give in. Don't be surprised if I do yield, eventually, to buy some time."

"Don't be too hasty," Artie warned, smiling. "After all, you've been standing tough."

Jim touched his still aching ribs. "Not too tough. That Kansas kicks like a mule!"

WWWWWW

Loren Norwood rose from his chair as Jim descended the stairs. "Ah, Mr. West. You must be very pleased to have Mr. Gordon arrive. I must say I am delighted."

"I'm sure you are," Jim responded with some sarcasm.

Norwood's gaze trailed up the stairs. "Where is he?"

"He decided to lay down awhile. He's pretty worn out after being lost in the mountains for a couple of days. All right if I ask Luis to take some food up to him?"

"By all means. Then come back. We need to talk further."

Jim started to turn, paused. "Where's my brother and Madden?"

"Matthew claimed the need for some air to clear his head. Pierce went to his own room. He's not very happy that you were informed of his subterfuge."

"I'm not very happy about it myself."

Norwood chuckled. "I imagine not. But Pierce is a clever man, don't you think?"

"Too clever for his own health." Jim could not keep the anger from his tone. For nearly ten years, he had borne a sense of guilt for Pierce Madden's debilitating injury. While he had never added up the amount of money he had handed over to his former fellow student and comrade-in-arms, that sum did not matter. What mattered was how Madden had prevailed upon his sense of honor and decency.

Norwood now laughed aloud. "Perhaps that's why he chose to be out of sight when you reappeared just now."

Jim turned and strode across the room to the kitchen door. Luis was peeling potatoes, and he quickly agreed to take a tray up to Mr. Gordon. Jim quietly asked whether Luis was aware of anyone else who knew his native language. Luis shook his head. "No one has ever spoken to me in Spanish, Señor West. Mr. Norwood, he lives in Texas for many years, but never bothered to learn."

"He wouldn't," Jim grated. "Mr. Gordon may speak to you in Spanish in the presence of others, something simple and meaningless to start with, to see what reaction he gets from the others. We may need your assistance, Luis."

"You will have it, _Águila de Oro_. I know how you helped my mother's people. _Simplemente dicerme lo que deseas para hacer._"

"_Gracias, Luis._" Jim acknowledged the youth's response to simply ask "Be ready. It'll probably be Artemus who gives you instructions, as his Spanish is better than mine."

Jim left the kitchen then, not wanting to arouse suspicion. As he entered the main room, Matthew came in through the front door, followed by a scowling Kansas and another man. "Mr. Norwood," Kansas growled, "West was trying to take a horse."

"Good Lord!" Matthew protested. "I told Kansas that I merely wanted to take a short ride in the snow. Jim can tell you that as a kid I loved to go walking immediately after a fresh snow."

"True enough," Jim said as he neared. "If I trailed along, he would give me hell for messing up the pristine beauty of the fields." _Was it possible Matt tried to escape? If so, was he just plain leaving, or thinking of sending back help?_

Norwood gazed at the brothers. "I suggest, Matthew, that next time you want to ride, you mention it to me, first."

"All right. May I take a horse out? The sun is already warming and melting the snow. Typical for this time of year."

"Not now, Matthew. Now that I have the two illustrious West brothers here, I want to talk to you both. Sit down." Norwood jerked his head at his two henchmen, who then exited through the front door.

Jim took the same chair he had been occupying earlier, while his brother moved to a sofa facing Norwood, after shedding the heavy coat he had donned for outside. Jim had a pretty good idea what the subject of this discussion would be. He wondered if Matthew did as well. Matt appeared to be quite tense. _Had he been trying to escape?_

"Mr. James West," Norwood began, "have you given further thought to your decision?"

"No need to," Jim replied. "I'm not going to change my mind."

"Not even if Mr. Gordon is thrown into the mix?"

Jim expected this, so did not react, though he saw Matthew's frown deepen. "Mr. Gordon is in the same profession as I am. He knows the risks."

Norwood gazed at him a long moment. "I always heard that Gordon was the actor of the pair, but you should be on stage, Mr. West. I almost believe you. Even if blood does not tell, in the case of your elder brother, what about his wife and children? Will you be responsible for leaving her a widow, her children fatherless?"

"Don't listen to him, Jim," Matt said suddenly. "I lied to you earlier. Therese and the kids will make out. Her father will take care of them. I never went to him for help due to pride. But he will see they are all right."

Norwood got to his feet slowly. "Matthew, it seems as though your brother's heroics are rubbing off on you. Will you feel the same when Kansas starts applying a red hot poker to your feet? How about you, James West? Can you hear your brother's screams and continue to refuse to work with me?"

Jim gazed up coolly at the man now towering over him. "Suppose I acquiesce. How will you know that I won't betray you in the end?"

"Because Mr. Gordon will remain here as hostage."

Jim shook his head, half smiling. "That won't work. Artemus Gordon is the actor, and he is also the linguist. He knows the language of several of the tribes you want to parlay with. You will need him." _I just hope Artie is not called on to demonstrate this knowledge. Maybe he could fake it for awhile…_

Norwood was unperturbed. "I am a flexible man, West. I try to keep a number of backup plans at the ready. I have already sent a man to… to the site where your father currently lives. If this man does not hear from me by a certain date, he is to kill Nevin West. The only way my employee will get the word in time will be if you agree to help, so that we leave this place within the next forty-eight hours to allow me to get to a telegraph."

Jim knew his reaction to the threat was overt, so unexpected had it been. Matthew's face registered his horror as well. "You're a clever man, Norwood."

"Yes, I am. How else do you suppose I amassed the empire I have?"

Jim shrugged, recovering somewhat. "I was wondering, considering your recent confession regarding the bad financial moves you have made. The ones that have put you in this position."

Norwood scowled. "Those were not all within my control." He obviously did not like to be reminded of his failures.

Seeing Norwood's glance shift, Jim turned his own head. Luis was emerging from the kitchen, bearing a cloth-covered tray. Without a look toward the three men at the fireplace, he headed up the stairs.

Loren Norwood settled into his chair again. "Now, James West, what is your response?"

"I told you before, my father means nothing to me, beyond the fact that he sired me. I am not going to betray my Indian friends. If, on the other hand…"

Norwood's eyes narrowed as Jim's voice trailed away. "On the other hand, what?"

"If you decided to attempt to negotiate with them on the up-and-up, in public, with government oversight… who knows?"

"No." Norwood leaned back in his chair. "My situation requires that I obtain large sums of money within the year. The percentage I would receive through a contractual situation as you describe would be miniscule compared to what I can amass via this method, not to mention undoubtedly delayed by red tape and bureaucracy."

"But you're likely to end up with nothing without my cooperation anyway."

"You'll cooperate, West. I know the kind of man you are. You won't allow your brother and your best friend to suffer. Not for the sake of a few lousy Indians."

Jim did not respond. Norwood was correct, unfortunately. If either Artemus or Matthew was tortured, he would probably yield, at least for the time being. He had no doubt that Norwood would carry out his word to retain Artemus, and possibly even Matthew, as hostage. Did Norwood believe that they trusted him to free them all once his scheme to defraud the Indians was accomplished?

Luis came back down the stairs, hands empty now. He would need to return upstairs later to collect the used dishes, which would provide another opportunity for conversation. Had that been Artie's idea? Could well be Luis came up with it. The young man was not stupid, though Jim suspected that a man like Norwood looked on him that way, perhaps merely because Luis was half Indian-half Spanish, two races that Norwood very likely despised.

"Excuse me, Señor West," Luis paused near the chairs. "Señor Gordon… _deseos_ _para verte… _um… he sleeps." The youth pointed to the stairs.

Jim nodded. "That's fine, Luis. _Gracias._ I'll look in on him later." He looked at Norwood, who appeared merely annoyed by the interruption. Luis had not said Artie was sleeping in Spanish, but that he wanted to speak to Jim West. "Artemus is not much of an outdoorsman when you come down to it," he said toward Matthew. "Hates long rides. I'm surprised he tackled this trek."

"The reason is obvious," Norwood put in. "He was concerned about your absence. I've heard of the close friendship between the pair of you, how well you work together. I have a feeling you look on him more as a brother than you do Matthew."

"And well he should!" Matthew's eyes were as hot as his words. "Artemus Gordon has been more of a brother to Jim than I ever was… or could be."

As surprising as the outburst was, Jim was equally startled to realize he himself was about to voice a refutation. He stilled his tongue though. His feelings would be very difficult to explicate right now, especially to himself. Instead he spoke quietly.

"Then you should understand, Norwood, that if Mr. Gordon is harmed in any way, you'll pay."

Norwood seemed unfazed. "That will be up to you, West. Cooperate and no one need be hurt… including you."

With a scathing glance toward the rancher, Jim pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the stairs. He expected to be called back, but no summons came. Upon reaching the landing, he looked down to see Norwood in earnest conversation with Matt. Matthew West's face revealed he did not welcome whatever was being said. Was it more chastisement for his attempt to take a horse out? For talking back to Norwood a few minutes ago?

_I need to have a long talk with Matt. Doing so is going to become more and more difficult now. If Norwood suspects he was trying to escape, he'll be watched as closely as Artemus and I are._

Jim entered his own room, closing the door behind him, then passed through the door to the adjoining room. Artemus Gordon turned from the window. "Anything new?"

"Not really. Norwood is still making threats against both you and Matt, as well as my father, to gain my help. Seems time is growing short."

"I would imagine. He's got creditors from here to London after him."

"You checked on him?"

"Yeah. I didn't even recognize the name, until Lily told me he was known as 'The Baron of Texas.' He's well-known for his lavish spending, and being generous where it would draw the most publicity."

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, still experiencing twinges of pain in his chest and stomach. "Man like that, it's doubly important to him to recoup his losses privately so as to not have to admit failure. I touched a sore spot on that downstairs a few minutes ago. He blamed it on bad luck."

"Maybe. But from what I learned, bad judgment and greed were also involved." Artie glanced toward the window. "I saw your brother being escorted inside a bit ago."

"Seems Matt wanted to take a horse out and Kansas stopped him. Matt always had this thing about snow. Far back as I can remember, he loved the first snow of the year, and liked to go off by himself. But I'm not sure if that's what he was doing this time or not."

Artemus noted his friend's sour expression. "You think he was trying to escape?"

"I don't know. I don't know if I'll have an opportunity to ask him in private. He's aroused Norwood's anger and suspicion now."

"He won't have the snow as an excuse much longer. It's melting."

"Matt mentioned that."

"It's a good thing, in a way. Luis might be able to hide his tracks better in mud than in snow."

Jim frowned. "What are you conjuring up?"

"I told Luis I'd give him more details later. I'm thinking he needs to leave the house very early tomorrow morning. He sleeps in a room next to the kitchen, and has never been locked in, or even checked on."

"Yeah. I don't think Norwood believes a kid like Luis has any intelligence, or courage."

"I also think that if he leaves, he should not try to come back. He should stay with American Knife." Artemus looked to see if Jim concurred.

"Agreed. And the message he should take to American Knife is…?" Jim grinned at his partner. Both of them were aware that usually Jim West was the planner, the one who came up with the schemes, with Artemus Gordon being the one who did the refinement… and often ended up pulling their irons out of the fire.

"Oh, it seems to me that if one or two or more of Norwood's men started disappearing, things could be shaken up a bit."

Jim nodded. "Excellent idea. Tell Luis to have Knife get cracking on it right away. We don't have much time left."

Artemus picked up a biscuit from the tray Luis had provided, but held it, staring at it as if he had never seen a biscuit before. "Jim, I hope Luis is right that no one will understand our conversation. We could get the boy into big trouble."

"I know that. So does he. Luis is Norwood's slave."

"I know. He told me he had been working in a café in Amarillo. Norwood had him grabbed to bring along to act as his cook and general factotum. He also said that he heard the men talking, and Norwood had had to let the majority of his household help go for lack of funds."

"Then Norwood may be in deeper financial trouble than we realized. And more desperate." Jim glanced around. "I don't suppose you brought a weapon in with you." He had already noted that Artie was not wearing his gun belt.

Artemus grinned, putting the biscuit back on the plate and stepping toward the bed. He lifted up the mattress to display a small-caliber pistol along with a box of shells. "I had it inside my shirt. I didn't know what I was going to encounter here in the lodge. Then I decided it would be safer secreted here."

"Good. It's not much of a weapon against six or eight forty-fives, but it's better than nothing."

WWWWWW

Both West brothers and Artemus Gordon were at the supper table that evening. Norwood instructed the trio to sit together at one side—the opposite side from the kitchen door. Although he did not voice the command in their presence, Jim was certain Kansas and his men had been ordered to keep a close watch on them. No one would be allowed to casually wander into the kitchen tonight.

When Luis appeared, Artemus spoke to him in Spanish, initially commenting on the food, but also making remarks that did not specifically refer to what was in front of them, such as identifying the beef roast as mutton. Neither Norwood nor any of his hands appeared to notice anything amiss, although finally, when Luis was serving pie and coffee, he snapped to Artemus to "Speak English!" By then, several terse instructions had been given to the cook.

Pierce Madden was at the table, his sullen silence and black glares toward the West brothers continuing. When the meal ended, he headed for a cupboard on the far wall to find a bottle of bourbon to fill a large glass that he carried to a chair near the fireplace. Jim saw Norwood stare long and hard, but not say anything. He wondered how Pierce Madden got connected with a man like Norwood. How would Norwood have known of Madden's relationship with agent Jim West?

Norwood called Jim, Matthew, and Artemus to join him at the fireplace and offered brandy. Matt accepted, but the two agents refused. Norwood snickered. "Your partner, Mr. Gordon, remembers what happened to him the first evening when I offered him an innocent cup of coffee."

"He told me about that."

Norwood sipped his own brandy. "Tell me, Mr. Gordon, did your partner also inform you that if he does not comply with my wishes, you could suffer some discomfort?"

Artemus met the stare squarely. "So I've been given to understand. However, I agree with Mr. West. Neither of us will cooperate with your scheme, Mr. Norwood."

"Are you that brave, Mr. Gordon? Or simply stupid?"

"I look at myself as pragmatic, Mr. Norwood. You are going to kill us anyway in the long run. What's a little pain? I've endured pain before. It will end, one way or another."

Jim prevented himself from smiling as he watched Norwood's face. Norwood did not know whether to accept Artemus Gordon's words or not. _It's the straight stuff, Norwood. I told you earlier that Artemus knows the risks of the game, just as I do. You didn't believe me. Matthew on the other hand…_

Jim glanced at his brother. Matt was holding his snifter, his expression somber. He had gotten into this, partially of his own volition, but also, apparently, through Norwood's ploys to put him in a desperate situation. Jim realized he did not know his brother well enough to be aware how much persuasion Matthew would have needed. All he knew right now is that he wanted to get Matt out of this, safe and alive. He wanted Matt to return to his wife and children. And he wanted Matt to be able to tell him where to find Nevin West.

"Mr. Gordon," Norwood said then, "I truly hoped that you would help me persuade your partner to cooperate. In fact, I understand that your participation might be to my advantage, what with your facility with the various tribal languages."

Artemus kept a straight fact. "I imagine it would… if I was of a mind to assist you." _Great jumping balls of St. Elmo's fire, what have you been telling him, James?_

Norwood shook his head, appearing more amused than angry. "I can see why the two of you are partners and close friends. You seem to think alike."

"If you mean we feel the Indian tribes deserve a fair deal," Artie said smoothly, "you are absolutely right. Jim and I are of one mind."

"They are just ignorant savages!" Madden suddenly burst out.

Jim could see that Artemus was biting his tongue too, wanting to tell Pierce Madden about the very intelligent and highly educated American Knife. Norwood had mentioned American Knife's name at one point, but had given no indication he was aware of the chief's background. Jim spoke quietly.

"There are some white men who are more ignorant, and more savage, than many Indians."

"Bah!" Pierce took a big gulp of his whiskey. "You're the ignorant one, Captain. What's the matter with you? Don't you want to be rich?"

"I think I wouldn't mind being rich. But I care where the money that made me rich came from. I'd also want to sleep nights."

"Mr. West has a conscience," Norwood sneered. "So does Mr. Gordon. And I'm afraid it's contagious where Mr. West's brother is concerned. Matt did not have a problem with the deal before talking to James."

"It's not that so much," Matt spat out. "It's the lies you told me. You said Jim and Artemus Gordon would not be harmed."

"I think I said that if they cooperated they would not be harmed. Your brother has already displayed his unwillingness to work with me, and has also attempted to escape. With what he knows… and with what you know… that's not allowed at this point."

"Matt," Jim said, "face it. Norwood played you for a fool all along. I suspect he had a hand in the destruction of your home. And you already know how he framed you for the robbery."

"Matthew should be grateful I told my men to make sure to get the wife and kids out of the house first," Norwood responded, with no sign of remorse.

Jim was glad to see his brother containing his temper, at least to the point of remaining in his chair, as his face registered his rage.

Artemus asked, "Mr. Norwood, what kind of treasures do you expect to find on the Indian land?"

"Gold, Mr. Gordon. Gold, silver, some oil… elements the Indians, and the government, have not thought to look for."

"Are you certain of it?" Jim asked.

Norwood's expression was smug. "I had some fine geologists do the work. They confirmed what I suspected."

"I presume those geologists are no longer around to spill the beans," Artemus spoke sharply.

"You are correct, Mr. Gordon. I'm playing for high stakes. Millions of dollars. I can't afford to have loose tongues out there."

"And he won't let us live to tell the tale either," Matt snapped. "Pierce, that includes you."

Pierce Madden lowered the glass he had been about to drink from. "Don't be crazy. Mr. Norwood is my friend. I'm helping him. You help him, and you'll be all right." His words were slurred.

"Madden is absolutely correct," Norwood spoke smoothly. "If you gentlemen become part of the enterprise, I'll have no reason to wish you harm."

_He means he'd have us under his thumb,_ Artemus mused, glancing at his partner, aware that Jim West was having exactly the same thought. Norwood may well believe that if the agents participated in his scheme of bilking the Indians, they would fear exposure and subsequent penalties. _He might be right. And that's a damn good reason not to cooperate, even if we were of a mind to do so._

Jim West pushed himself to his feet, smothering the grunt of pain that threatened to emerge. Often the pain seemed worse after he was sedentary for a few minutes. Past experience had taught him that staying active, keeping his muscles loose, was best. However, if he started moving around too much here, he might lay himself open for further abuse from Kansas and others. Just now, Kansas stiffened as he saw the movement.

"Artie, I expect you're feeling pretty weary about now."

"That's putting it mildly," Gordon concurred, realizing that he was not lying. The last few days in the saddle, out in the elements, with American Knife had worn on him. He got to his feet and followed Jim up the stairs, aware that the big moose addressed as Kansas was watching the two of them carefully. _What does he think, that we're going to leap over the balcony and fly out the window or something? That's the fellow who beat Jim pretty badly. He looks like the type who prefers his opponent to be helpless._

They each entered their own rooms. Closing his door, Artemus leaned his head against it, listening intently. He heard the heavy footsteps outside, and half expected to hear a key turn in the lock. However, after a couple of moments, the footsteps retreated. Kansas had no instructions to stand guard at the moment, evidently.

"Wish we could lock the doors from the inside," he commented as he entered Jim's room through the connecting door.

"Yeah. I expect that's by design. You did a good job at supper. I think Luis got the message."

"I'm sure he did. Just so he can carry it out, getting a horse without waking anyone."

"The barn is a fair distance from the house. I don't think there's an outside guard. At least none was posted last night. I got all the way to the barn before I was missed."

"Where the devil were you going to go, James?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "I have no idea. I just wanted to get on Blackjack and start riding. As it turned out, it might have been a damned uncomfortable ride. I didn't have a jacket." His smile faded. "I'm afraid my attempt backfired, in that Norwood is completely alert now. I wouldn't be a bit surprised but what he puts a guard outside our doors tonight."

"I thought about that. Well, as long as they don't attempt to guard Luis. If he can get to American Knife, we'll have a pretty good chance."

"We don't have much time, Artie. As soon as they realize Luis is gone, Norwood is going to shorten his deadline time. I'm not going to be able to stand by and see you… and Matthew… mistreated."

"But if the Cheyenne are able to institute the plan Luis is carrying to them, Norwood might have other things to worry about. They…"

The sound at Jim's door caused Artemus to pause, and they both watched the door open. Artie knew he expected to see Norwood, or perhaps Kansas with some sort of message from his boss. He did not know who Jim anticipated. Matthew West stepped inside.

"Hope I'm not intruding," he said, closing the door carefully behind him.

"Come on in," Artie invited, seeing his partner's expression close down, despite Jim having expressed concern about his brother's welfare just moments ago.

Matthew cast a rather uneasy glance toward Jim's implacable face. "Norwood went into the kitchen for coffee, and Pierce is almost insensible. He's not very happy with me having told you the truth about him, Jim."

"I'm grateful you did," Jim replied levelly. "Where were you trying to go this afternoon, Matt?"

Matt West sighed visibly. "Stupid idea. I took a ride a few days ago, before you came, with no problem. I hoped I could do it again. Only I wasn't coming back. Not right away anyway."

"You were going for help?" Artie asked.

"Yeah. Don't ask me where. I wasn't drugged or blindfolded when they brought me here, but I don't know if I could find this place again. Hell, I used to live down in Hamilton and hunted in these mountains. Just never came this deep." He looked at Artemus. "Did you really find your way alone?"

Artemus did not look at Jim. "Yeah," he chuckled. "Just dumb luck. I had a general idea of which direction Jim and Madden headed." _Jim still doesn't trust him. Not entirely. I guess we're not going to let Matthew in on the plan… yet._

Matthew now gazed at his brother. "How are you feeling, kid? Still pretty sore?"

"Damn sore," Jim growled.

"Kansas likes to inflict pain," Matt scowled. "If… if Norwood goes through with his threats, Kansas will be the one carrying them out."

"That's a pleasant thought," Artie murmured.

Matthew held out both his hands, palms up. "Jim, I want to help you get out of here! But I don't know what to do!"

_I think you've done enough! _Jim held onto those words, did not allow them to escape through his lips. Somewhere inside, something was telling him enough was enough. He had clung to his anger too long. Yet he could not let it go. The anguish he had experienced that morning in Aunt Sybil's kitchen seemed as fresh today as it was then. He wanted to believe that Matthew had been completely duped by Norwood, but he could not. Not yet.

Artemus was looking at him, waiting. Artie knew that if anyone was going to let Matthew in on their plans it would have to be Matthew's brother. Jim sighed inwardly. _I'd like to trust Matthew. Can I? Will Norwood torture Matt, as he threatened, or is it simply an empty attempt at further intimidation? Is Matt in deeper than he's letting on? However, he did tell me about Madden's treachery…_

Jim sighed, stared toward the window for a long moment. Then he looked at his brother, coming to a decision and knowing he needed to act on it before he changed his mind again. "Matt, sometime tonight, when everyone is asleep, Luis is going to try to sneak away and get to some friends Artie brought with him."

Matt's eyes widened. "Army?"

Artemus shook his head. "Cheyenne. They helped me find this place." Artie was surprised at the sense of relief he experienced upon hearing Jim reveal their plans to his brother.

"What we're hoping," Jim went on, keeping his gaze fixed on Matt's face, "is that American Knife and his men can pick off Norwood's men, one by one. We think that Luis's disappearance is going to anger Norwood, but if his men appear to be deserting, he might get rattled. Not to mention that the man-to-man odds here will get better for us."

"Unless, of course," Artie spoke dryly, "he gets _too_ scared and decides to just cut his losses, kill us, and head back to Texas."

Matt smiled briefly, then spoke thoughtfully. "I think I can negate Madden by encouraging him to drink. He's pretty damn mad at you _and_ me, Jim. Me for blabbing, you for believing me. Norwood just locked the liquor cabinet, but I know where he keeps the key, and I'll try to get back into Pierce's good graces by telling him where it is. If I know him, he'll swipe a couple of bottles and take them to his room."

"How long have you known Pierce?" Jim asked.

"Only since the first time Norwood came to Montreal. I didn't know his connection with you, however, until we got here to Montana. I think he's been working for Norwood for a year or so."

"He might have been the one to suggest Jim as the intermediary with the Indians," Artie put in. "We were wondering where that idea came from."

"Not from me!" Matt exclaimed. "I've followed your career, Jim, in the newspapers, but I didn't know you were close with the Indian tribes."

"Pierce did," Jim responded. "He was in St. Louis sometime back when I had some dealings with some Osage chiefs, acting as an intermediary between them and President Grant."

Now Matt heaved a big sigh. "I'm sorry, Jimmy. I wish I could turn the clock back, knowing what I know now. I'd never let Norwood get the hold on me he did."

"At least," Artie said quietly, "if we are able to get the goods on Norwood, you won't have to worry about that frame-up."

Matt gazed down at the floor for a moment, then lifted his eyes to his brother. "Jim, I wasn't lying downstairs when I said Theresa's family will take care of her and the kids. Her father, especially, doesn't like me much. I think… I guess I've been too damned stubborn. He owns a farm outside Montreal, and he offered to make me a partner in it, for the sake of Therese, when he realized she was going to marry me no matter what he said. I got stupid and let my pride interfere, swore I'd take care of her. Hell, I wouldn't even let her go home after the house fire!"

"So you think you'd like to be a farmer now?" Jim asked.

"Both her parents are getting older, and they've got a big house. They'd like us to live there. The old man isn't that bad. He just… rubbed me the wrong way from the start, insinuating I couldn't take care of his daughter in the manner to which she was accustomed. She's their only child, and after I became a father, I started to understand better how he felt. Turned out he was right. I haven't done a very good job of providing for my family. But the old folks love the grandchildren. I never did anything to stop the kids from knowing their grandparents. Yeah, I think I might like farming. If we get out of here alive."

"We've done a pretty good job of that so far," Artie said. "There's a first time for everything, but… stick with us, Matt."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Act normal," Jim said quickly. "Go downstairs now and behave as though you and I had another row. Norwood will be aware you came in here."

"You didn't tell him about the gun," Artemus said as the door closed behind Matt West.

"I know. I'm not… I hope I'm doing the right thing."

Artie clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I personally believe you are. But time will tell. And so will blood."

WWWWWW

Artemus was rinsing his face in the porcelain bowl, wishing he had some hot water for a shave, when he heard the commotion from the lower portion of the lodge. Jim opened the adjoining door and looked in, buttoning his shirt.

"Sounds like someone just discovered the coffee isn't ready."

Artie assumed an expression of mock horror. "Jim! We didn't think about that! No coffee!"

"Times are tough," Jim grinned. Then he sobered. "I expect we'd better go see what's going on before someone gets suspicious."

When they reached the kitchen, they found a furious Norwood instructing Kansas and several other men to launch a search. Matt was there, arms folded on his chest, and Jim innocently asked what was going on.

Matt took his cue, shaking his head. "Seems Luis has taken a powder. At least he's not in the house, and breakfast hasn't been started."

Norwood spun. "Gordon! What did you talk to the Mex about?"

Artie's brows lifted. "When?"

"At supper! You were talking to him in Mexican."

Artemus assumed a nonplussed expression and shrugged slightly. "Food. I asked him how he prepared the roast. Oh, and I asked if he boiled the potatoes before…"

Norwood cut him off with a chopping motion of his hand. "You know how to cook?"

"I'm no gourmet chef," Artemus returned. "I can make coffee and fry eggs." _As well as create delectable French pastries, but that's neither here nor there. I'm not making Napoleons and croissants for you!_

"Then get to it!"

"I'll help," Matt said. "I learned some cooking when my children were born and my wife needed assistance."

"You sure the kid isn't around?" Jim asked casually.

Norwood scowled at him. "The entire house has been searched, and so has the area outside. He took a horse." His eyes narrowed. "You make a decision?"

"Nothing's changed."

"You're a damn fool, West."

"Maybe."

The Baron of Texas pointed a stern finger. "You're getting a brief reprieve, because of this damn half-breed kid running off. But remember what I told you. Forty-eight hours, or your father is a dead man."

Jim did not respond, as the kitchen door opened and the man who stuck his head in signaled to Kansas, who went outside. That caught Norwood's attention too, but he did not follow, simply waited. At the stove, Artemus had gotten a big coffee pot filled and heating. The aroma filled the kitchen.

Kansas returned, a deep frown etching his heavy-featured face. "Boss, seems like Eddie might have lit out too. Only he didn't take a horse."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Norwood demanded. His attention focused on his hired man, he did not see the glances exchanged among the two West brothers and Artemus Gordon.

"Dunno, boss. Toby sent Eddie out to see if he could find some tracks of the horse the kid took. That was better than an hour ago, and he ain't come back. Toby went to yell at him, couldn't find him."

_American Knife must have moved down closer,_ Artemus mused as he brought cups from a shelf to put on the table. He had to concentrate on not smiling, especially when noticing the scowl of worry on Norwood's countenance. Unless this Eddie actually took off on his own, chances were good that the Cheyenne had him. If the band had come nearer the lodge, Luis would have been able to meet with them sooner to relay the plans. _Well, that's one down. Seven to go, not counting Norwood and Madden. _

Norwood was cussing Eddie up one side and down the other, ignoring Kansas's attempts to defend his apparent friend. When Norwood did notice what Kansas was saying, he immediately accused Kansas of lying. "You probably knew he was unreliable!"

Pierce Madden chose that time to wander into the kitchen, unshaven and eyes bloodshot. "Where's the coffee?" he demanded, oblivious to the turmoil.

Norwood spun on him. "Where have you been?"

Madden blinked. "I just got up. Why? What's going on?" He now noticed Artemus and Matthew at the stove. "Where's the Mexican kid?"

"He's gone."

"Gone! Where's the coffee?"

Artemus turned, a beatific smile on his face. "Just be patient, Pierce. Coffee is coming."

"Hell with coffee," Madden growled, and turned back toward the door into the main room.

Norwood grabbed his arm. "Where'd you get the key to the cabinet?"

"I found it," Pierce sulked.

"Give it to me."

Madden looked at the hand extended toward him, at Norwood's angry face, then dug into his pocket. "I was just going to get a couple of swallows to take the edge off." He put the key into Norwood's hand.

"You stay away from that liquor," Norwood ordered. "Get outside and help the search."

Madden stared at him. "Me?"

"We're short a man. Get the hell out there."

For half a moment, Madden appeared to be ready to dispute the order further. Jim saw his shoulders slump as he shuffled toward the door, grabbing a heavy jacket from among several now hanging on the nearby wall. Jim again wondered how Pierce Madden had become involved with a man like Norwood. Had Norwood somehow learned of his past connection with Jim West and sought him out?

"I'd be glad to help with the search," Jim said mildly.

"I bet you would," the still enraged Norwood snarled.

"Coffee's ready," Artemus Gordon announced, bringing the large pot to the table where the cups were now arrayed. _Wish I had some knockout drops to "sweeten" it with. That would solve a lot of problems._ But he had none with him.

Kansas waited until Norwood had served himself, then picked up a steaming cup. "What do you want me to do next, boss?"

"Stay in here while the others are searching. Why would Eddie have vamoosed?"

Kansas shrugged his large shoulders. "I dunno. Just last night he was talkin' about his share and what he was going to do with it."

"Then perhaps we are being hasty in assuming he's run away. He might have strayed farther…"

Kansas was shaking his head now. "Boss, we saw some tracks. He was there, and then he wasn't. Like he was grabbed by a ghost."

"Don't be ridiculous," Norwood snapped back. "Matthew, where's those eggs?"

"Almost ready," Matt replied, picking up a spatula to start lifting eggs out of the big skillet. "You know, when I lived here a dozen years ago, I heard stories about the huge man-beast that was said to roam the area. Never heard that he grabbed men, but he sure had the trappers and miners spooked."

Kansas's eyes widened, but Norwood's scowl deepened. "Don't talk nonsense. If anything, that half-breed kid laid an ambush and grabbed Eddie."

"Why?" Jim inquired, sipping from the cup of coffee he had picked up.

Norwood spun toward him. "Why? Because he's a dirty savage, that's why. Can't be trusted."

"I'm surprised you brought such a man on your expedition," Artemus commented, putting a plate of the sliced day-old bread on the table.

Loren Norwood had had enough. "You three keep your mouths shut. This is none of your concern. Your worry is Jim West agreeing to cooperate, lest a couple of you start to undergo some pretty uncomfortable treatment. You should be worrying about your partner's attitude, Gordon. I'll worry about Luis."

"Has that half beast thing been seen in this area?" Kansas asked Matthew, as he brought the eggs over.

"I remember hearing about it in Hamilton," Matt responded, serious expression on his face. "So I presume it was seen—or thought to have been seen—hereabout."

Jim almost smiled, his mirth arising partially from seeing how Kansas received this information, with his eyes widening even further than before, but also due to realizing that Matthew was entering into the spirit of the situation wholeheartedly. _We are brothers, after all. Maybe we're not so different._

"Kansas," Norwood spoke rather sharply, "go tell the men to come in two at a time to eat. I want the search for Luis and Eddie to continue."

"Yes, sir."

As his henchman went out the door, Norwood pulled a small pistol from his jacket pocket. "I advise the three of you to behave yourselves. Sit down and eat. Matt, I'll want you to continue cooking eggs as needed when the others come in."

It did not quite play out that way, as Kansas returned within a few minutes, accompanied by Toby. The faces of both displayed high anxiety, and perhaps some fear. "Boss," Kansas exclaimed, "now Crater is gone."

"What the hell do you mean?" Norwood demanded.

"Same as Eddie," Toby supplied. "Only Crater wasn't a dozen feet from me. We was looking up that hill to the east, trying to find more tracks where Eddie went missing. I heard a funny noise, and I called out for Crater. He didn't answer, so I went to look. He… he wasn't there."

"But you found tracks," Norwood growled.

Toby swallowed. Plainly he did not want to say this. "It was the same as Eddie. There's tracks… and they just stop. There's a patch of snow that ain't melted, and you can see he was there… then he wasn't."

"Maybe it's that thing West talked about," Kansas spoke hoarsely. "Boss…!"

"There's no such thing!" Norwood spat back. "Matt was trying to accomplish just what you fools are displaying. Terror! Go out and keep looking!"

"What about breakfast?" Kansas asked.

"You get breakfast when you find those two men… and Luis! Get the hell out there!"

As Kansas and Toby reluctantly departed, Artie caught Jim's glance and saw that his partner's thoughts were his own. Norwood was unnerved, was hiding his shaken condition with anger. Loren Norwood was quite aware that even if Luis had escaped on his own, those two men had not. They would never have headed out on foot in this wild area. _Sure would be interesting to know how the Cheyenne are accomplishing these captures without leaving a sign. Presuming, of course, that it is American Knife and his men who are responsible, and not the man-beast Matthew mentioned!_

Artemus had the pistol tucked inside his shirt. However, with Norwood actually holding a weapon, he did not want to attempt to withdraw it until Norwood was distracted. Right now Norwood was standing in a position where he could watch all three of them, gun in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. Beyond that, the sound of a single shot would bring Kansas and his men running.

_Normally,_ Artemus mused, _I would have full faith in Jim's ability to handle a half dozen men—with my assistance, of course. But though he has been trying to disguise it, I can tell he's still hurting from the beating he took. Might have a cracked rib. And I have no idea what kind of fighter Matthew is, even if he could be relied upon to participate. He's a West, but he's also older, and a family man. He has not led the life his younger brother has._

"West," Norwood looked toward where Jim was still leaning against the wall, "don't start thinking this is changing anything. In fact, it might cut your time shorter. Make up your mind who want to see dead: your partner or your brother."

Jim West's expression was glacial, as was his tone when he spoke. "Norwood, do you really think I'd _ever_ cooperate with you if you killed one of them?"

Norwood smirked, undaunted. "As a matter of fact, I do. Guilt might propel you. Or fear for the life of the other one. How would you ever face your sister-in-law or her children if they knew you were responsible for the death of Matthew?"

"I've already told Jim not to worry about that," Matt stated flatly. "My wife's father will take care of them."

Norwood was unmoved. "I don't think you know your brother very well, Matt. Now I can't say I'm personally acquainted with James West, but I know his type. Honorable to the end. He won't let you die, Matt. Anymore than he'll let anything happen to Gordon. He'll cooperate."

Jim West did not respond to the taunt. He feared Norwood was correct, and was unsure just how far he himself would go to save the lives of his brother and Artemus Gordon. The necessity of waiting to allow American Knife and his men to take action was difficult. Jim trusted the Cheyenne medicine man, who had taken some initiative already, acting much more swiftly than anticipated. The Indians could not have known that things were coming to a head inside the house, but the timing of the disappearance of Eddie and then Crater had been perfect.

The door opened and Pierce Madden entered, looking much worse than he had just minutes ago after the exertions outdoors on top of his hangover. "We can't find them, Mr. Norwood. The boys think that monster got them." Kansas trailed in after him, his own expression taut and fearful.

"There's no monster!" Norwood raged. Despite his anger, he had not lost his composure, holding the pistol steady on his three hostages.

"That's amazing," Matthew spoke up. "I always thought that the story was just that, a story."

"There's no monster!" Loren Norwood shouted. "Kansas! Get all the men together and keep them together. Find those two men. They are skulking out there somewhere. Damn cowards!"

Clearly Kansas wanted to speak further, but he kept his mouth shut, spinning and exiting again. Pierce Madden, on the other hand, headed for the door that lead to the large front area.

"Madden!" Norwood barked. "Where are you going? Get out there and help!"

"Like hell," the one-armed man spat back, pausing the doorway. "I'm going to get a drink, and if the cabinet is locked, I'm breaking it in." He pushed through, slamming the door behind him.

"Go on after him," Jim said mildly, smiling slightly. "We'll wait here for you."

Norwood glared. He was caught in the middle of wanting to reprimand his employee and the necessity of guarding the trio, not to mention perhaps wanting to follow his men outside to see just what was going on out there.

"All three of you," Norwood commanded, "sit down at the table. Keep your hands on the table top." He motioned with the gun.

Slowly the two West brothers and Gordon moved to the table, taking chairs on one side so that they all faced Norwood. Artemus could feel the weight of the gun inside his shirt, aware that this might be a favorable time to attempt to get the drop on Norwood, while he was agitated, yet also aware that the time required to reach inside his shirt, not the mention the motion of his arm, would be prohibitive. Norwood had his weapon in his hand.

_Come a little closer._ Jim West watched Norwood carefully. The stocky man was trying to watch them while peering toward the window as well, attempting to discern what was occurring outside. He was still a good half dozen feet away from the table, but if he would come closer, Jim felt that tipping the table might give them the edge they would need. Most importantly, they would need to act in such a manner to prevent Norwood from firing his weapon, the report of which would be heard outside.

_Stalemate._ Artemus Gordon rested his hands on the table, as did his companions, and waited. Norwood was sweating a little now, his forehead shiny. The hand that was not holding the gun moved uneasily, wiping that forehead, then jamming into his coat pocket, then scratching his neck. All the while, his eyes darted from his three prisoners toward the window, with an occasional glance back to the door leading to the other room, where Pierce Madden had gone.

_We need to do something before those men come back to the house._ Jim glanced toward the window, seeing nothing. Presumably Kansas and his men were at the edge of the surrounding woods, if not deep into the trees. _I doubt that!_ Jim West prevented himself from smiling. Kansas Story displayed fear, and if this big brute of a man was nervous, his underlings would be more so.

The ideal situation would be for the Cheyenne to be able to grab the remaining men, isolating Norwood here. However, if Kansas was following orders, he and the others were sticking close together. Jim suspected that the Indians climbed into trees to use lariats to seize the men, perhaps using a noose around the neck to quickly silence the captives, but not kill them.

"Matthew," Artemus said, "what else do you know about this monster-man that supposedly inhabits these hills?"

"Not a lot," Matthew replied. "Those that claim to have seen him… or it… say it's seven or eight feet tall and covered with hair, like an animal. But they insist it wasn't a grizzly, say, standing on hind legs."

"Sounds like the one in California," Jim commented. "I think they call it Sasquatch. I've heard it's been seen in Washington State too. Not far-fetched to think it could be here in Montana. They…"

"Shut up!" Norwood snapped. "I know what you're trying to do. There's no monster out there. Those damn cowards have deserted, that's all. Well, to hell with them. Means more for the others. I'm going to call Kansas in and tell him to halt the search. He…"

This time Norwood was the one interrupted, and by gunfire from outside. He froze for a moment, then stepped to the door, opening it slightly to peer out, all the while keeping one eye and his weapon on the men at the table. With the door open, they could all hear shouting, and it was coming nearer. Within a minute, all six remaining men tumbled into the room.

"Indians!" Kansas gasped. "Dozens of them!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Norwood demanded. "No Indians reside in this area."

"We saw them!" Toby cried. "All painted for war!"

Loren Norwood gazed at his wild-eyed men, then shifted his eyes to the table. "Gordon, what do you know about this?"

Artemus widened his own eyes. "Me? Nothing! I didn't see any Indians on my way here."

Norwood stared at him a long moment, then turned back to his men. "How many did you see?"

"Didn't stop to count," Kansas retorted. "But they're there. We saw them!" The other men nodded nervous agreement. "What are we going to do, boss? They can wipe us out!"

"Likely they already murdered the others," one man muttered.

"I'm for getting out of here," another said. Although neither Kansas nor Toby verbally agreed, their expressions indicated they did.

"You're not going anywhere," Norwood snarled. He turned and pointed his free hand toward Artemus. "Gordon, go out and talk to them."

"Now wait a minute…" Jim began.

"Shut up. Gordon knows the language. Go find out what they want."

Artemus shook his head slightly, as though baffled. "We don't know what tribe they are. It might be one I don't know."

"Then you figure out how to talk to them. Get going."

"Wait," Jim went on, putting a hand on Gordon's shoulder as Artie started to rise. "Look, Norwood, I'm the one with the rapport with the tribes. I may not know these particular Indians, but they may have heard of me through other tribes."

Norwood shook his head firmly. "No. I still need you because of that rapport. Gordon I can do without, as long as I have Matthew. Get moving. It's up to you to stay alive out there."

Artemus Gordon had a devil of a time preventing himself from grinning, even laughing, as he saw the alarm on his partner's face. Jim was not known for his acting ability, but he could do it when called upon. Matthew seemed more puzzled than worried, although surely he realized that the Indian "threat" was caused by the men who had accompanied Artemus to the area. Matthew could not know the many instances when Jim West and Artemus Gordon formulated a plan without even speaking. Their minds were usually on the same track.

"Damn you, Norwood," Jim growled as his partner went out the door, "if anything happens to him, you'll pay!" Feigning anger was not difficult, even while knowing Artemus was in no danger.

"What if the Injuns kill him too?" Toby demanded, leaning over to peer out the window. "They been picking us off, one by one!"

Before Norwood expressed the obviously irritated response he was planning to make, the door from the front area opened and Pierce Madden entered, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his good hand. "What's going on?" he asked, speech slurred.

"I should have sent you out there," Norwood snarled. "Goddamn drunk! I should have known you were useless from the start." Pretty obviously, he was taking out his fears and frustration on the handiest target.

Madden blinked, swaying slightly. "Hey, Mr. Norwood. Don't forget, I'm the one who got the captain out here for you." He looked at the men assembled in the kitchen, squinting as though experiencing difficulty in seeing them. "What's going on?" he asked again.

"Indians!" Kansas replied, ignoring his employer's angry glare. "We're surrounded!"

Even in his inebriated state, Madden comprehended. "Indians! Did they get wind of your scheme, Norwood?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Norwood stepped over and grabbed the bottle from Madden's hand. "Sit down and shut up. There's nothing to worry about. Gordon has gone out to talk to them."

Jim glanced at his brother and saw that Matthew was having difficulty disguising his mirth. The panic in Norwood's men was building, aided and abetted by the mysterious manner in which their comrades had been seized and, so far as they knew, slain by the savages. By spotting just a few Cheyenne—and Jim did not know if American Knife had deliberately allowed this to happen—Kansas and the others were certain they were about to be swarmed over and massacred by hundreds.

_We've got to be ready for whatever Artie and American Knife cook up._ Jim wished he could speak to Matthew. His brother was not accustomed to these situations, which sometimes seemed to be a way of life for the two agents. Even a vacation could be fraught with peril, as this situation proved. He had set out, although somewhat unwillingly, on a hunting trip, presumably to spend time in a luxurious hunting lodge.

The scream that pierced the air was from a distance, but unmistakable. Jim West jumped to his feet, turning toward the door. He saw the horror and fear on the faces of Kansas and the other three men. If Norwood had not spoken, likely he could have gained the door, but Norwood did speak.

"Stop him!" he shouted.

Toby was nearest the door and he grabbed Jim's arm, shoving him back. "You ain't going nowhere."

Jim spun to face Norwood. "That was my partner! I have to help him."

The other man's face was grim. "Sounds like it might be too late to help Gordon."

"Boss!" Kansas face and voice registered his desperation and near panic. "We gotta get out of here! We'll all be killed!"

"It's probably too late," Matt said quietly. "If they killed Artemus, when all he was trying to do was talk to them…" He shook his head sadly.

"You shoulda sent the captain," Madden put in. "The Indians wouldn't harm him."

"Don't be too sure of that," Jim replied. "These seem like a bloodthirsty bunch. They…"

"Look!" Toby cried, pointing to the window. "There's Gordon!"

This time no one stopped Jim West as he rushed out the door to grab the arm of his staggering partner. Artie had his hand inside his shirt, and the amount of blood that covered the front of his shirt was appalling. "What happened?" Jim demanded. Had things gone horribly wrong?

Artie leaned against him, kept his head down and spoke in a near whisper. "It's rabbit blood. The Cheyenne are going to move in closer while attention is on me. I've got my gun in my hand. Be ready."

"Come on, sit down here," Jim urged his partner as they entered the kitchen. "Matt, get some water!"

He eased his "wounded" friend into the nearest chair, aware of the horrified expressions on the faces of Norwood and his men. Artemus Gordon's foray had been their best hope. Even if he had not been killed, as had been their first thought upon hearing his scream, the fact that the marauders had severely wounded him was just as bad. The Indians were not in a conciliatory mood, obviously.

"What happened?" Norwood demanded. Beads of perspiration were forming on his brow and cheeks now, despite the coolness of the room after the door had been opened, plus the fire in the cook stove was cooling down due to inattention.

Artie lifted his head slightly, putting on his finest wounded duck mien. "They… they want us… to leave. They… want to… burn the lodge…"

"What? Why?"

Matt brought a basin of water along with some cloths and knelt down beside Artemus, glaring toward Norwood as he did. "Can't you see he's in no condition to talk?"

"S'okay," Artie mumbled. He gripped the nearby table's edge as the two West brothers appeared to be tending to his wound. The table hid most of their action from the others, which was good because all Matt was doing was dabbing the wet cloth against Artie's soaked shirt. He had grasped the situation instantly.

"Sacred ground," Artie went on after a feigned gasp of pain. "You built…on sacred ground."

"Nonsense! No one told me that! They said there had been no Indians here for years!"

"What happens if we don't leave?" Pierce Madden wanted to know.

"Burn it… anyway," Artie grated.

That information unsettled Kansas and his friends. Toby was the one who voiced it. "Boss, we gotta vamoose!"

"That's probably what they want," Jim said, glancing up. "Get us out into the open."

He intended to add fuel to the fire, and that's what happened. Kansas and the other men all started talking at once, directing their angry pleas toward Norwood. A couple even said they were leaving, no matter what. Loren Norwood finally silenced them by shouting louder.

"Quiet!" he roared. "We've got to stay calm. Gordon, who are these Indians? What tribe?"

"Blackfoot," Artie mumbled.

Jim glanced up. "That's one of the languages he doesn't know well, unfortunately."

"Are you sure that's what they said? That they want us to leave? Did they say they'd let us go safely if we did?"

Artemus Gordon's head sank down on his chest. "He's out," Matt said. "Jim, let's take him into the other room."

"Wait a minute!" Norwood roared as the two brothers started to pull Artemus to his feet. "Where you going?"

"To find a place for him to lay down," Jim snapped back. "He's lost a lot of blood. I have to find something to bandage that knife wound. It's deep."

Norwood hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Toby, you go with them."

"Not me," the man protested. "I don't want to be away from the guns."

"I'll go with them," Madden said. He was still somewhat bleary-eyed but seemed not quite as intoxicated as earlier. Jim West wondered if some of it had been an act. "Give me a gun."

Norwood gazed at the one-armed man a long moment. "Can you shoot any of them if need be?"

"Hell yes! Captain West isn't any use to me any longer now he knows the truth. And I'd like to plug Matthew on any excuse for blabbing on me! I don't think Gordon will be any problem."

After studying Madden for another few seconds, Norwood acquiesced, ordering Kansas to give up one of the two guns he carried. The big man did this reluctantly. As he helped his brother carry Artie out of the kitchen, Jim reflected that whatever else he was, Norwood obviously was a leader. More than the promise of wealth was required to hold sway over men like Kansas Story and his ilk. Very likely that was how Norwood accumulated his fortune in the first place. As well, that forceful personality might be the reason that he was unable to admit his own mistakes, and was seeking to cover them illegally. _Hasn't he ever learned that pride precedes a fall?_

Jim and Matt half carried, half dragged Artie into the other room, followed by Pierce Madden, who stood back and watched as they made Gordon comfortable on the largest of the sofas near the hearth. Artemus still had his hand inside his blood-soaked shirt, ostensibly clutching his wound.

"Pierce," Jim said, standing up and facing his old classmate, "any idea where we can find some bandages?"

"What's going on?" Madden asked instead. "What are you planning?"

Jim West's eyes widened slightly. "We're planning to patch up Artie. He's got a nasty cut."

Pierce shook his head. "I know what a good actor Artemus is. He's shamming the whole thing. You've got an escape in mind. From the Indians?"

"Hell, yes, from the Indians," Jim responded. "But we aren't getting out of here alone. There's too many of them out there. We have to get Artie bandaged so he'll be in shape to…"

The hand with the gun waved, not threateningly, but in a dismissive motion. "I know better, Jim." Madden swiftly stepped over to the sofa, and before he could be stopped, pushed the barrel of his gun against the supposedly wounded man's side. Because Artemus's eyes had been closed, he was not forewarned. His eyes popped open, and at the same time he pulled his hand out from under his shirt, the pistol immediately pointing toward Madden.

"Easy, Artie," Jim warned. "Pierce, what's on your mind." He had noticed that suddenly Pierce had ceased using "Captain" to address him.

"Whatever's on yours, Jim. I want out of here. I don't care if I end up in jail, I just don't want to be scalped."

"Don't trust him, Jim," Matt warned.

Jim held out his hand. "Give me the gun, Pierce."

For one instant, Madden appeared to be ready to acquiesce. Then he glanced toward the door to the kitchen. "I'd better hang onto it, Jim. If Norwood or one of his men looks in and sees I don't have it…"

"He's right, Jim," Artemus said quietly, still holding his own weapon pointed at Madden.

"Yeah, I know," Jim sighed. He looked around the room. "I wonder how quietly we can tip that table against the door. It would slow them down a minute or two."

"What are you thinking?" Pierce asked.

"Only one way out," Artie said, "through the front door."

"Then we still have to go around the house to get to the barn for horses," Matt put in.

"Right," Jim West affirmed. "But if we block that door, chances are Norwood will be angry enough to order it cleared, without thinking about cutting us off by going out the back way."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute!" Madden protested. "What about the Indians? They…" His words halted as he stared at Gordon's bloody shirt. "You weren't really wounded. So… no Indians? Who's out there?"

"It's Indians," Jim stated, "but not Blackfoot. Don't think about betraying us now, Pierce."

Pierce Madden shook his head quickly. "No. No way. I'd rather take my chances with you, Jim."

"Well, we have two guns against at least eight," Artemus said, remaining on the sofa lest someone peek through the door to check on them. "I think speed and surprise are our best weapons. Once we get outside, American Knife will back us up."

Madden's eyes popped wide, but he did not comment. Jerking his head at his brother, Jim strode back toward the kitchen door. Only when they had tipped the table over did Artemus jump up and join them. The three men carefully lifted the table and placed it against the door to the kitchen area. They then moved a couple of cabinets and a set of shelves filled with books to brace against the table, making it more difficult to push away.

"Let's go," Jim ordered in a low voice. "Out the front door, to the left, around the house and straight to the barn. Pierce?" Once more he held out his hand. This time the former corporal placed the pistol in it.

Jim was the last to exit the front door, and just as he stepped outside he heard a shout behind him. An attempt had been made to open the kitchen door. Turning, Jim fired a single shot toward that door. He was quite aware that he needed to conserve his ammunition. Artemus had some extra for his pistol, but it was a smaller caliber than this forty-five.

_Wish we knew exactly where American Knife was._ Jim scanned the area with his gaze as he followed his sprinting companions. Shouts were emanating from the house behind them, seeming to indicate that his prediction had come true. Norwood was too preoccupied with the trick played on him to think clearly. Difficult to say how long that would last.

Because of this morning's uproar, the horses had not been tended. They were all inside the stable and, of course, not saddled. Artemus and Matthew had the door pulled open as Jim joined them. He paused at the open door, again looking around toward the woods. A sharp whistle reached his ears, and he glanced in that direction. The tall form of American Knife was easily visible amidst the brush.

The best they could do was to get bridles on the horses. Jim knew that he and his partner could ride bareback with no problem, but he was unsure about his brother, and aware that Madden could have difficulty.

_I think we made a mistake going for the horses_. Shouts were audible now that indicated Norwood and his men were emerging, either through the back of the house, or having removed the blockade, following the trail of the escapees. In either case, they were going to be damn close by the time the horses were mounted. By riding out there, as well, the four men were going to place themselves in between Norwood and the Cheyenne.

"Jim," Artemus said, pausing after slipping the bridle on his nervous mare. "We're too late."

"I know. Pierce, is there another door out of here?"

"On the other side, but it's usually barred from the outside."

"Time to lay a trap," Artie stated.

Jim nodded. "Matt, Pierce, get into the stalls. Artie and I will draw them in this direction with a couple of shots. I'm pretty sure American Knife will know what to do."

"How many Indians are there?" Pierce asked as he ducked into a stall.

"Half a dozen," Artemus replied. "They are all armed as well, with rifles and their bows."

"West!" Norwood's shout rang in the cool morning air. "Come on out! I still need you. You won't be hurt!"

"Better surrender!" Jim yelled back. "You are surrounded by Indians."

"Fun and games are over!" Norwood yelled back. "We know it was some kind of trick."

"Then what happened to your two men?"

"They just deserted, that's all. Come on out, West. You come out with your hands up, and you won't be harmed."

Jim glanced toward Artemus, saw that his partner was having the same thoughts. Nothing was being said about the other three in the barn. No promises regarding their safety. "What about my partner and my brother?" Jim called back. "And Madden?"

"Save your own skin! I'll make it worth your while in the long run. You can have their shares!"

Pierce Madden muttered some curses. "I should have known."

"Yeah, you should have," Jim replied. "When you live in a web of lies, generally you get caught up eventually." He looked at Artie again. "Think American Knife has had time to get set up?"

Artemus Gordon shrugged. "We can't wait forever."

Conversation was not needed. The two agents had worked together too long to require detailed plans. Jim headed for one side of the still open door, Artemus the other. Jim waited to allow Artie to get off a couple of quick shots, because he had more ammunition. He would have to pick his own shots. American Knife and his men would need to work their way around behind Norwood, if they had not already.

"Jim," Madden called in a low voice. "Can this Indian be trusted?"

Jim waited until a barrage of firing from outside slowed down. "Don't worry about American Knife, Pierce. He is a man of honor. Matt, you okay?"

"Yeah. Wish I had a gun though."

Jim fired once through the door and was rewarded by a yelp of pain. After the initial outburst of gunfire, the men outside appeared to have settled down to wait for more opportune targets. When Artemus's pistol appeared in the opening to crack off a couple of shots, several weapons were discharged toward it.

"Jim," Matt called from his position in the stalls, "that back door… Norwood might send someone around to try to come through. It can be barred from the inside. I'll take care of it."

"Matt, wait!" Jim warned, looking around to see his brother emerge from the stall. As Jim had feared, his movement was visible from the outside, and several guns were fired toward him. With a cry of pain, Matthew West spun back toward the stall. "Damn it!" Jim growled, but did not move from his own position. Artemus got off several shots in the direction of the source of the weapons that hit Matt.

"I'm okay, Jimmy," Matt called in a strained voice. "Hit my upper arm. I'm okay."

"I'll help him," Madden said, scooting from his own hiding place into the stall where Matt was.

"Where's American Knife?" Artie asked, looking at Jim.

Jim West just shook his head. He had been watching the area beyond where Norwood and his men had secreted themselves behind boulders and trees, but had seen no movement. Surely the Cheyenne were not waiting for a summons of some sort. "I've got just a couple of bullets left."

Artie grimaced. "I've got about a dozen. This little revolver doesn't have much range, I'm afraid. Jim, do you think Norwood meant it?"

"Meant what?" Jim took a quick look around the side of the door, pulling his head back just as a shot sounded and wood splintered.

"That he still wants you alive."

"Don't even think that, Artie. I'm not leaving."

"Jimmy," Matt called, "you might have to. Someone needs to be alive to make sure Norwood faces charges."

"Matt is right," Artie said quickly before Jim could voice another protest. "If we're all killed, we could be buried in these mountains and never found. You play along with Norwood, and make sure he gets his just desserts."

Jim West was shaking his head. "No. I have faith in American Knife. He's out there. I just don't know exactly what he has in mind."

_What the devil are you waiting for, American Knife?_ Artemus Gordon squinted toward some brush beyond. Had he seen movement there? He and the shaman had been unable to make solid plans when he was sent out to parlay with the "hostiles," other than the one where Artie pretended to be wounded in an attempt to shake up their captors even further. Without knowing just how Norwood would react, rigid schemes were impossible. All that could be done was to say, be ready. Surely American Knife was planning something. He had already let them know he was near with that whistle. What now?

Jim heard Norwood shout something, but could not catch his words. The import of them came a moment later when a barrage of gunfire was aimed at the open door. He and Artie had the same thought, and Artemus, with more ammunition available to him, spun away from the door, crouching low, to head for the far side of the structure.

Artie saw the smaller door in the wall that faced away from the house start to open slowly, so he ducked behind a bale of hay. Two men, pistols in hand, crept inside. "Stop where you are!" Artie commanded.

He did not expect them to obey, and they didn't. Their guns came up and instantly blazed fire toward him. Artemus threw himself toward the opposite side of the bale, dropping to the rough wood floor there to fire his own weapon, choosing his shots carefully. Both men staggered. One went down, the other tried to get out the door. Artie shot again, bringing him down.

Jim waited tensely, holding his own fire and noticing that those outside were doing the same, apparently anticipating the outcome of the ambush. After the gunfire ceased behind them, Jim moved into the nearest stall, quite aware that the two bullets in his gun were not going to be much help if his partner had been downed. He heard the sound of movement first, then saw the approaching shadow.

"Got us more guns and some ammo," Artemus said, resuming his place by the door and tossing one of the gun belts over to Jim, who also returned to the doorway. "I barred the door from the inside."

Jim loaded his gun from the ammunition on the belt. "Gives us a little more time. Where the hell are those Cheyenne?" He moved back to his previous position on the opposite side of the opening.

As if his question had been spoken loudly enough for the Indians to hear, they responded at that moment. The reason for their delay became immediately evident, as the seven men charged from different directions, on horseback, screaming in their most bloodthirsty manner, firing their carbines, and heading straight toward Norwood and his crew. American Knife had had his men maximize their numbers by mounting their horses and more or less surrounding the attackers before launching their assault.

Jim and Artemus hurried outside as Norwood's panicked men were throwing down their weapons and surrendering. Jim immediately realized that Loren Norwood was not among them. He grabbed Toby's arm. "Where's your boss?"

The wide-eyed and terrified man looked around. "I dunno. He was over there!" He pointed toward a large rock nearer to the house.

"Jim! Where are you going?" Artemus's voice trailed after him as he sprinted toward the house. If Norwood was able to get out through the unguarded front door, he could get into the woods and maybe get away. Chances were, he could be tracked down, but Jim did not want to take the risk, nor have to waste the time. He was unsure yet how severe his brother's injury was. Getting him to civilization and a doctor could be important.

Reaching the back door, Jim paused and peered inside. Finding the kitchen empty he crossed over to the door to the front area and did the same. The upended table and other furniture were still there, but they had been shoved aside far enough to allow access. The front door was shut. Had Norwood taken the time to close it…?

He knew instantly that Norwood had not yet exited through that door. A man like Norwood would not be traveling without funds, and those funds were likely in his quarters upstairs. Holding his pistol at the ready, Jim dashed up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. He reached the upper landing just as Loren Norwood emerged from a room down the way, carrying a small leather bag in one hand, a gun in the other. That gun fired as Jim hurled himself to one side.

"Drop it, Norwood!" he yelled, flattening himself in a doorway. "You can't get away now."

"Come with me, West," Norwood called back. "We can still make it work. Just you and me to split the fortune that is out there. Millions of dollars!"

"Which belongs to the tribes," Jim shot back. "Your scheme never had a chance, Norwood. Give up now. All you face is kidnapping and attempted murder charges. Don't add murder."

"Never!" the other man responded. "I'm not going back to face humiliation. Loren Norwood made his fortune single-handedly. Everyone knows that. I won't be shamed!"

"It's that kind of thinking that got you in this mess in the first place. Give up and face it like a man!"

"Jim!" Artemus's voice came from somewhere below. "Where are you? Are you all right?"

"Take cover, Artie!" Jim yelled, hearing more than seeing Norwood's movement. He stepped out from the doorway to see Loren Norwood leaning over the railing. Norwood fired his pistol an instant before Jim West's slug slammed into his side. Jim rushed to the railing. "Artie!"

Down below, Artemus Gordon rose from behind the tipped table, waved a hand. "No new blood, Jim. This still all belongs to the poor bunny rabbit."

When he reached the landing, Artie found his partner kneeling beside the fallen man. "Dead?"

Jim sighed, getting to his feet. "I tried to hit his shoulder, but I didn't have time to aim. What a damn fool. For such a brilliant man, he was very stupid."

"Many brilliant men are, Jim. They start to see themselves as infallible. He could not face his own humanity, that he could actually make errors. Another man might have said, well, I pulled some boners, let's see what we can do to fix them. Instead, he decided the world owed him."

Jim did not respond, leading the way back down the stairs and outside. He saw Matt sitting on the ground, leaning against the barn wall, American Knife crouched beside him. Jim could now see that Matt had not lied, the wound was in his arm, not in some more vulnerable spot. "Where's Madden?" he asked, looking around.

Artemus scanned the area as well. "I don't see him. Maybe inside the barn."

But the one-armed man was not in the barn, nor was one of the horses. The rear door was opened again. Somehow Pierce Madden had managed to saddle one of the mounts and ride out. Jim found himself more annoyed than angry. Madden was another fool, unwilling to take his medicine. Likely the charges against him would not have been severe, plus the two agents would have spoken in his behalf for his assistance in their escape.

American Knife rose to his feet as Jim and Artemus neared. He waved a hand expansively toward the men who were now disarmed and being tied up by his men. "A good day's work."

Jim extended his own hand. "Thank you. I owe you another one."

The Cheyenne accepted the hand, a glint in his eye. "And I will see that you pay, West. But see here, now I have two Wests!"

"You can always call me Jim."

American Knife grinned. "I prefer formality, James."

Laughing, Jim turned to the youth who stood alongside American Knife. "Luis, thank you. We could not have managed this without your assistance."

"I simply pay back _Águila de Oro_ for the help he gave my mother's people, Señor West. It was an honor. Also you helped me, freeing me from Señor Norwood."

Jim then knelt beside his brother. "How you doing?"

"It hurts, but I'll be okay. American Knife stopped the bleeding." A rough cloth had been wrapped around the wound. "I'll be fine in time for the trial."

"Trial!" Artie cried before Jim could speak. "What trial? You just helped us break up a very serious conspiracy, Matthew. Without your assistance in leading us to Loren Norwood, we might have had big trouble in the future."

Matt frowned, staring up at him. "What are you talking about? I…"

Jim got to his feet, extending his hand. "Come on, big brother. We never had breakfast. No one did."

"Fine lodge," American Knife stated, gazing at the imposing structure. "Perhaps my men would like to find out what it feels like to sleep in a white man's bed."

"My thoughts exactly," Artie nodded, grinning. "I think a good night's rest before heading out is just the thing. I'm sure we can find one cozy and solid room that Norwood's remaining men can share. The rest of us can relax and enjoy the comforts the late Mr. Norwood provided."

WWWWWW

They delivered the prisoners and Norwood's corpse to the law in Hamilton, it being the nearest town. Matt's wound was properly dressed by a doctor, who declared that all Mr. West needed was some rest and caution so as to not reopen the wound again. By the time all the formalities of arranging for the transfer of the prisoners and making reports via telegraph were completed, three days elapsed, allowing Matthew West to have that rest. With his arm in a sling, he declared himself ready to ride.

Artemus was extremely disappointed when he realized that the interlude in the mountains completely ruled out their taking the assignment in San Francisco. Lily's troupe would be leaving the bay city before they could get there in any case. However, he was heartened to receive two telegrams. One was from Lily stating that she would be back in Denver in a week's time. The second was from Colonel Richmond, who informed them he had no current assignments, and suggested they extend their leaves to cover the time consumed by this particular adventure. He would meet them in Denver in three weeks to discuss upcoming tasks.

American Knife and his men camped outside of Hamilton, not wishing to cause anymore uproar than necessary in the small town, but they accompanied the West brothers and Gordon back to Missoula where the train waited. There they parted company, with the Cheyenne heading back to their own home grounds in Wyoming, and the varnish car leaving the siding to journey to Colorado. Luis Aguilar accompanied the Cheyenne. They would escort him further south, until he could board a train for Texas and home.

Jim had sent an additional telegraph message while in Hamilton, this one to a small Colorado mining town, deep in the Rockies, asking the authorities there to contact one Niles Waltham to inform him that his life might be in danger from an assassin. Upon reaching Denver, James and Matthew West mounted their horses and headed into the mountains.

Jim had urged Artemus to accompany them, but his partner smiled and refused. For one thing, he said, Lily Fortune would be arriving soon, likely before Jim and Matt returned. For another, this was a family affair. He would meet Nevin West at a later date, he was certain.

The ride consumed two days and two nights, during which the two men did a lot of talking and coming to terms with past actions. Jim West was unsure if he was yet ready to forgive his brother, but he thought he understood. Odd to consider that when he himself had been twenty-two, the age at which Matt fell under the spell of a barmaid, he had been a captain of cavalry, already decorated, helping to lead Union forces to victory, as well as having been the trusted aide to the commander of the Union Army. Their paths had diverged completely. Jim could not even begin to speculate on what his life might have been like if Matt had not left their New York home.

He realized as well that speculating was useless. He was not unhappy with his own life. The thought that he might have become a store clerk, or even a professional man had his college education played out, was impossible to comprehend. He was James Templeton West, special agent, and he would not have it any other way.

Matt was also more at ease with the possibility of requesting assistance from his father-in-law. He had once had dreams of his own farm, he admitted, but had never been able to get the funds together to purchase one. He also confessed he had a lot to learn about farming, and "the old man" would be pleased to teach him, he was sure. Just a matter of swallowing his own pride, and after the events of the last weeks, that was going to be easier to do than previously.

They reached the town nestled in the craggy mountains at midmorning of the third day. The settlement was no more nor less than Jim expected, with rough buildings clustered in a small valley. Most of the structures were business establishments, though a few residences were scattered about. They found the office of the deputy sheriff who was the law in the town, but that man was absent. The owner of the barbershop next door informed them that the deputy had had to ride out that morning to attend to a report of a theft at a mine high in the surrounding hills. The barber, however, knew Niles Waltham, and directed them to the cabin beyond town where Waltham lived with his business partner.

As they approached the unpainted shack, Jim's nerves tightened. He knew he would be welcomed by his father, but he was unsure of what his own reaction would be upon encountering the man who had deserted him thirty years earlier. He wanted to believe the version of the story Matt had given him, yet during the first fifteen years of his life, he had often been told of the horrible crime Nevin West had committed. Never had there been any doubt.

A short, rather rotund man emerged onto the front stoop of the cabin as they approached, nodding in a friendly manner when they dismounted. "Reckon you'll be Nevin's boys. Ain't no doubt, now that I see you."

Jim and his brother exchanged a glance. Obviously their father had revealed his past to this man. "Where is he?" Jim asked. Was Nevin West experiencing apprehension as well?

"My name is Oscar Bright," the man said. "Me 'n' Nevin been partners around these parts, and others, for close to ten years. He felt real bad, but he figured he'd best skedaddle out of here after Tom Wilson told him about the fellow looking for him."

"He's gone?" Matt cried, astonished.

"He's gone. Rode out about four, no make that five, days ago now."

"Did he say where he was heading?" Matt wanted to know.

"Nope. I'm thinking he's worried about that fellow following him. And he didn't want you two to get involved in it."

Jim asked, "Did you see anyone come looking for him?"

"Well, that's interesting. No one showed up here, that's for sure. Day before yesterday, George Blumenthal brought in a dead man he found up on the north trail. Looked like the fellow had been thrown from his horse, broke his neck. George said he saw cougar sign, which likely startled the horse. I ain't seen the fellow, but from what I heard, he has all the earmarks of being a hired gun. I'm thinking he might-a-been the one after your daddy."

Matt expelled a loud breath. "If that's the case, Father would not have needed to run."

"That's the truth. But better safe that sorry. Come on inside, boys. Your daddy left something for you. And I reckon you wouldn't mind a hot cup of coffee."

Tying up their horses, they followed Bright inside the cabin, which proved to be clean and well furnished. Bright insisted they sit down at the table while he brought cups of steaming coffee. Once they had that, he went to a small roll-top desk to procure an envelope, which he handed to Jim. On the outside of the envelope, in a strong hand, was written "To my sons." Jim gave it to Matt.

"Read it."

Matt held it a long moment, his eyes on his brother's face. Then he nodded and opened the envelope, withdrawing a folded sheet of paper. "My sons," he read aloud, "I cannot tell you how sorry I am that I could not remain to be with you. My greatest fear is that by staying, I would have brought harm to one or both of you. I'm doing what I feel best, just as I always have where you boys are concerned, taking my troubles far distant from you. Matthew, give my love to your dear wife and children. I hope I have the opportunity to see them again one day. I think of them often, just as you are always in my thoughts.

"James, I cannot express how proud I am of you. I know I cannot claim any of the credit, other than perhaps to have given you some of my own strength. Somehow we Wests have had to possess unusual backbone to survive, and you have proven that you possess that feature in excess. I love you both, and I know that we will find a way to be together one day. Your father, Nevin West."

Matt lowered the letter, but sat staring at it. Jim held his coffee cup in both hands, vaguely aware of its heat on his fingers. Oscar Bright finally broke the silence.

"Yep, that sounds like Nevin. I'd show you the scrapbook he has about you, Jim, but he took it with him. He was always collecting newspapers that had stories about you. I was the only one he could talk about you with, but sometimes I could just see he was busting his buttons to tell the world."

_Matt said the same thing. _"I wish I had a picture of him," Jim said aloud.

Oscar chuckled. "Son, just look in the mirror. Add a few wrinkles and some gray hair, and you got your daddy. Of course, he sometimes wears a beard or a mustache. Matt there, he's got the resemblance too, but you're the spittin' image."

They remained long enough to have a meal with Oscar Bright, then returned to town to speak to the deputy about the dead man. The lawman was able to take them to the shed where the corpse was being stored, and both agreed that the surmise that the man was the hired gunman was an apt one. He wore two guns, and he also had had five hundred dollars in his pocket.

WWWWWW

Artemus sat alongside Matthew West on the large boulder that overlooked the swift-running, sparkling stream and cataracts below. Also down there they could see the several blankets spread out on the stream bank, where Lily Fortune and a half dozen members of her troupe were lolling, along with Jim West. Lily had brought her friends to join the West brothers and Artemus for a picnic on the day before her acting troupe was to leave Denver, and also the day before the varnish car would head north to take Matthew closer to his home.

Matt had sent telegrams to his wife to assure her of his safety, and to tell her to go to her parents' home, that he would join her there. Therese had responded happily, not only because he was well, but because she obviously read between the lines and realized that her husband was ready to accept her father's assistance. She also urged him to bring his brother and Mr. Gordon home with him.

They might have accepted the invitation but for the wire received from Colonel Richmond, detailing a change in plans and ordering them Washington, DC soon to take on another assignment. Both Jim and Artemus promised that for their next leave, they would visit Canada.

"He's quite a kid," Matt said softly.

Artie had to laugh. "I don't think he's a kid anymore, Matthew."

Now Matt grinned. "He'll always be my kid brother, Artemus. I'm very proud of him, what he made of his life. Could have gone the other way. I've never forgiven myself for abandoning him. I'm not sure if he has either. Not that I can blame him. We all abandoned him. But he's got that… that fine sense of honor about him. "

"His honor is important to him," Artemus replied soberly. "Oh, he'll act the rogue and scamp from time to time. But anyone who knows James West knows he is an honorable man. If he gives his word, he'll keep it, except in the most dire circumstances, and even then he regrets having to break his promise."

_Even when he gives his word to those who don't deserve it, like Loveless. But now I think I understand this sometimes exaggerated sense of honor he possesses. I think I see why giving and keeping his promises are so important to James. As Matt says, they abandoned him. His father, his brother, and in a sense, his mother. Matthew had promised to always be there to support him. Jim knows the pain of being betrayed. He does not want to cause that pain for anyone else._

_And maybe it explains why sometimes I sense that Jim West is holding his emotions in check. He undoubtedly learned that in his early years, when being taunted and bullied about his parent, not to mention the secret he kept about his father and brother all these years. Even now he has not fully opened up to his brother. That will, I hope, occur one day in the future. _

Laughter rang from the group on the blankets below. Artie leaned forward and then sighed. "I think I'd better get down there to make sure my partner doesn't steal my girl. She's enjoying his company too much." He grinned to let Matt know he was not serious.

"You'll be a lucky man the day Lily agrees to marry you, Artie. She's one fine woman."

"Don't I know it? I'm going to have to make some adjustments… and I already have… in my thinking. But Lily is worth it. She's the woman I want to come home to."

THE END (for now)


End file.
